


Out of the Dark

by magickmoons



Series: The Shades Series [1]
Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Series, Supernatural Elements, Suspense, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Wordcount: 30.000-50.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-22
Updated: 2011-10-22
Packaged: 2017-10-24 21:00:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 32,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/267834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magickmoons/pseuds/magickmoons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Angel finds Buffy in LA several years after the destruction of Sunnydale, he finds some disturbing changes in her personality. Will he be able to help save her not only from whatever is pursuing her, but also from herself?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story goes off canon after the Buffy Series Finale, "Chosen," and the Angel Season 4 finale, "Home." Some events from Angel Season 5 occur (most notably, Nina and the return of Connor's memories and his friendship with Angel) while certain events do not (most notably Spike's resurrection).
> 
> It is now three years after the events of Chosen and Home. Communication between the AI team at Wolfram & Hart and the newly formed Slayer Cooperative was spotty in the beginning, trailing off to nonexistent within less than a year. Connor has taken an internship at Wolfram & Hart during his senior year of college and intends to continue working there with Angel and the team after graduation.

Connor Reilly scanned his security pass at the after-hours door to the building housing the Wolfram & Hart LA Branch and let himself in. He headed to the elevator and punched in the number for Angel's floor. Impatiently, he waited as the elevator slowly made its way up the mostly deserted building. He was through the double doors as soon as they slid open wide enough for his lithe body to slip through. Seconds later, he was knocking on the double doors of Wolfram & Hart's CEO's office.

Although it was past 11 PM, Connor was relatively certain that the CEO, Angel, would still be awake, although possibly not in the office, or even in the building.

"Come in," boomed Angel's voice jovially. As Connor opened the door, he saw several members of Angel's 'core' group of demon-fighters: Wesley, Gunn, Fred, and Lorne. Scattered Chinese food containers and half-filled tumblers attested to the fact that they were in a celebratory mood.

"Connor!" came a chorus of voices.

He smiled and walked into the room, grabbing a chow mein as he sat down. Before he could say anything, though, Angel interjected. "What brings you here at this time of the night? Shouldn't you be studying?" Connor was completing his senior year at UCLA, while doing his internship at Wolfram & Hart.

"I was out and saw something I thought you should know about…"

Angel cut him off. "You were 'out?' Doing what?" he asked sternly.

Connor gave him a look. "Okay, so I was patrolling. There's only so much I can get it out of my system at the gym, okay?" Angel looked disgruntled, but resigned. While he had confidence in Connor's ability to protect himself, he still felt that he was too young to out there alone. "Anyway, there were a lot of vamps hanging around this one block and I heard someone fighting. When I went to try to help, well, she didn't need any. So, I just figured you might want to know that there's a Slayer in town."

Wesley looked interested. "How do you know she's a Slayer? Can you sense it the same way Angel does?"

"No, I didn't inherit that bit of vampbility. I just made an educated guess. She was a girl, not really that young, I'd guess she is in her 30s, but she moved like nothing I've ever seen. Better even than what I remember of Faith. She moved like Angel." He shrugged. "Slayer or not, there's another fighter in town. I thought we might want to find out whose side she's on."

Angel was disconcerted. It had been years since they'd heard from anyone on the Slayer team. They had mutually agreed that the Slayers would stay out of LA and that had been that. But who could this be?

Wesley shook his head. "Buffy would be the oldest surviving Slayer and she's, what? 24?"

"25," Angel interjected, without hesitation.

"Still nowhere near 30 plus," Gunn commented. "Maybe it's not a Slayer. I vote with the kid, let's go find out who and/or what she is."

* * *

It didn't take them long to pick up her trail. Little piles of vampire dust led them as clearly as breadcrumbs until they were near enough to pick up the sounds of fighting. They rounded the corner into an alleyway and saw her battling a young vampire, who was clearly outmatched.

Angel stopped short. Silent and intent, the only betrayal of emotion a grim smile, she barely resembled the Buffy that he had last seen, in the days before the destruction of Sunnydale. Even facing the greatest challenge she'd ever known, she had projected an innocent belief that she would win the day. That good would triumph in the end. There was no remnant of that hope left in her visage. Angel had seen that look before; there was only the kill.

A second vampire was approaching stealthily from the other end of the alley. Gunn moved forward to intercept, but Wesley stopped him with a hand on his arm. He shook his head, "It's not smart to interfere with a Slayer in battle."

"Wait a minute," Gunn said. "That _is_ a Slayer? Is that… Buffy?"

Wesley looked to Angel for confirmation. At his nod, Wesley said, "Yes, that is Buffy Summers. Although rather drastically changed from my last contact with her."

She finished off both vampires with quick, businesslike thrusts (no puns, Angel noted), looked around, pocketed her stake, and brushed her hands off. She stood motionless for a few seconds, staring at Angel and then slowly walked over to where the group stood waiting.

As she approached, it seemed to Angel that moments from their history were playing out with each step.

… _Buffy towering over him with her foot on his chest, when they first met_

… _The expression of utter trust and love as she gave herself to him on her seventeenth birthday_

… _The grief and despair on her face as she slowly backed away as he was pulled within Acathla's realm_

… _Buffy running and jumping into his arms, covered in a fine sheen of sweat after dancing with Faith and a cadre of hormonal boys_

… _Her face partially obscured by the smoke from the remains of the high school at graduation_

… _Her face warmed by the sunlight on a day that never was_

… _"How's forever? Does forever work for you?"_

… _Their brief and unfulfilling meeting after her return from the dead_

… _"I'm cookie dough. I'm not done baking."_

The nearer she got to him, the more Angel realized that all belonged to another time. Another person. Her face was hard and cold, her clothes basic, easy to move in, and her hair and nails devoid of artificial color or any indication of more than the most basic care.

She was all Slayer now. There was no remnant of Buffy Summers.

As she walked closer, Buffy felt the faintest stirrings of emotion, the same tumultuous feelings that Angel always seemed to evoke. With resolve built over years, she blocked them out. There was no good to come of entertaining those sentiments. Instead she focused on evaluating Angel and his friends.

Was that Wesley? He certainly seemed to have come into his own. He held himself with confidence, and seemed to have a physical self-awareness that is common to good fighters. As did the black man by his side. He was physical but also had a bit of the suave going for him. He had been to the edge and looked death in the eye and laughed, she would bet.

And the boy (young man?)… Her senses indicated that he was something more than human, but he seemed to be like any other young, preppy collegiate type. However, she could see something lurking underneath, a wellspring of strength and natural abilities that he was still developing. When he came into his own, he would be a force to be reckoned with.

And then there was Angel. As always, he exuded a sense of authority. His physical being seemed to be in top form as ever, but there was a relaxed sense to his posture, a sense of comfort and camaraderie. His team was his family.

She tensed. "I shouldn't be here," she thought frantically to herself. "Too much danger, too many innocents."

Angel watched as her eyes widened. She stopped and stared at all of them. Slowly, she took a step backwards, then another. Then she turned and began to run down the alley.

But the LA natives had the advantage of familiarity with the area and before she had reached the other end of the alley, Connor and Gunn had cut through a nearby building and come around in front of her. Angel and Wesley pressed in from behind. She stopped.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi," Angel repeated. He waited for a follow-up, but none came. "Hi? That's all you have to say?" She stood there mutely. "No word from you or yours for years. Then you show up in my town and just start slaying." Now that he was closer, he could see why Connor thought Buffy was older; she looked like she had been doing some hard living over the last few years, though of the fun or not-so-fun kind, Angel wasn't sure. "You run from us, and when we corner you, all you have to say is 'Hi'?"

She shrugged. "How about, I'd like to leave now? How does that suit you?"

Angel's jaw tensed. "Not very well. Why don't we all head back to my office and talk about why you're here. I can't imagine that there isn't some reason behind this visit, whether you want to share or not."

Buffy looked carefully up and down the alley as she considered her answer. Scanning the surrounding rooftops and the doorways, she relaxed very slightly. Taking a deep breath, she nodded. "How far is it? And how much of the trip is out in the open?"

Angel and Wesley exchanged glances. "Buffy," Wesley said quietly. "There's no Big Bad here in LA."

"Yet." She smiled grimly.


	2. Chapter 2

Back at Angel's office, they rejoined Lorne and Fred who had tidied up in the meantime. Buffy sat uncomfortably in one of the overstuffed armchairs in a corner of the office, Angel took his place behind the desk and everyone else found places here and there.

"So, what's going on Buffy?" Angel began. "Why are you here?"

Buffy fidgeted, looking around. Lorne, in particular, seemed to make her skittish. "I came here, to LA," she began haltingly, in a low voice, just above a whisper. She cleared her throat and started again, this time slightly louder. "I came to ask for help." Her face remained shuttered but her heart was pounding in her chest. She had debated this course of action for months; leaving it only as a last resort. It felt foreign to her to reveal any vulnerability, especially in front of strangers.

Wesley responded before Angel could. He had some questions he wanted answered before resuming any type of relationship with the Slayers. "You are asking us for help? I seem to remember several times your Slayers made it clear that assistance either way was neither needed nor wanted. If your organization needs help, may I suggest we deal more formally? And if it is you, Buffy, who needs help," as Wesley thought was more likely, "then I would suggest that you ask Mr. Giles or your Scoobies."

She looked blankly at Wesley. "They're dead," she responded in a conversational tone.

Angel blanched. Wesley stuttered some sounds, then was still. It was Fred who leaned forward so that she could look Buffy in the eyes. "What do you mean 'they're dead?' Who's dead?" She desperately wanted to touch Buffy's hand or shoulder, to offer some physical comfort, but was afraid that this militant looking Slayer would break her arm if she tried to do so.

Buffy took a deep breath. "They are all dead. Dawn, Giles, Willow, Xander. Dead, gone. No longer able to help."

With each name, Angel and Wesley's faces fell farther. At Willow's name, Fred's eyes filled with tears as she remembered the bright witch who had helped them recover Angel's soul.

Angel spoke up. "When? How?"

"What about Faith? Is she dead too?" came Connor's voice from the corner.

Buffy's head whipped up. "You know Faith?" she asked suspiciously. Then realization dawned, and she nodded. "You're Angel's son. She told me about you." Angel was almost dismayed as the suspicion vanished from her face, it was the first real emotion he had seen her display.

"No, Faith isn't dead. She took over the training and coordination of the Slayers. It was in everyone's best interests that I leave."

"Why?" Lorne asked. "Surely, safety in numbers and all that."

"I'm the reason they were killed."

"Buffy, you can't know that," Angel remonstrated. "You all made some pretty powerful enemies over the years. Maybe this was retribution for something entirely outside of you; maybe even something that happened while you were…" Angel mentally winced; after all these years it was still hard to remember that awful summer.

"Dead?" she finished for him. "Nice idea, but no. It followed me as soon as I left town."

"And you led him here? Not that I don't like a good fight, but maybe you coulda called first?" Gunn half joked.

"It's not like I made a beeline here."

"No, I'd have to say Buffy's right. Given her appearance, I'd say that she's been on the run for quite a while." Wesley noted that his comment about her appearance drew no noticeable reaction from the Slayer.

"Sure, if 'quite a while' is stuffy Watcher talk for almost three years."

Lorne spoke up. "Well, cats and kittens and," he glanced slightly uncomfortably at Buffy, "fierce lioness. It's late and I've gotta get my beauty sleep. What say we call it a night?"

Angel nodded. "That's not such a bad idea." He looked over at Buffy. "You can use the guest room in my suite."

Buffy smirked. "I'm pretty sure your girlfriend wouldn't like that."

Angel looked confused. "Girlfriend?"

"Nina," Wesley hissed.

"Oh! Uh, well, you see, um…" Angel trailed off.

"Angel," Buffy interrupted before Angel dug the hole any deeper. "I don't care."

Those three words seemed to Angel to be more cutting than anything else she had said or done all night.

Wesley interjected, "We have a nice guest suite a few floors down. No one is using it at the moment."

"A suite?" Buffy seemed reticent. "That's really a lot. I was just thinking, you know, a room."

"Well, there are rooms within the suite," Wesley continued. "I'm sure you could find one to your liking."

"That's not it. Just more rooms make it harder to secure, that's all."

"Buffy, I assure you nothing gets in or out of this building that we don't know about."

Buffy still looked unconvinced, but shrugged resignedly.

* * *

Angel unlocked the door to the suite and handed the key to Buffy. She followed him in to the elegant living area and stopped as he pointed out the amenities of the suite like a real estate agent.

She interrupted his sales pitch. "Is this place fully stocked?" she asked.

"Yes, the mini bar is," Angel looked around, "ah, it's right over there. See how they disguised the fridge as an end table."

She looked at him as if he had sprites issuing from his ears. "No, Angel. Is this place stocked with first aid supplies?"

Angel was thankful he couldn't blush. Was he really that far removed from her life? When had he started to worry more about entertaining clients than helping to patch their wounds? He nodded. "Yes, the bathroom should have everything you need for light wounds. We also have an infirmary onsite if you need anything beyond that."

"Great, thanks." She disappeared into the bathroom and a minute later, Angel was overwhelmed by the scent of fresh Slayer blood. He hurried over to the bathroom, where she was sitting on the toilet in a sports bra and her workout pants. He noticed the homemade splint on her left forearm, but what really focused his attention was the bundle of cloths wrapped around her midsection, covered in blood.

"You're hurt," he said, feeling like the master of the obvious. "Why didn't you say something? We could've waited on the conversation until you were patched up."

She shook her head. "Don't worry, it's not new."

As she slowly unwound the makeshift binding, he noticed that the blood was still wet. "Buffy, this blood is fresh."

"Yeah."

Angel waited a minute and, as she did not appear to be forthcoming with details, he questioned, "If the wound isn't new, how come it's bleeding so much?"

"A few months ago, I think it was in Cleveland, he was a little closer on my trail than I had thought."

"You fought?"

She nodded. "I barely got out alive. And I got this little memento. Something was on the blade must prevent the wound from healing." She winced a bit as she shrugged one shoulder. "I do all right."

She finished the unwrapping and began to wet a washcloth to clean the area. As she turned toward the sink, Angel got a look at her back, where a jagged gouge separated the skin. Blood seeped from the edges of the tear. The skin around it was inflamed. He took the washcloth from her. He placed a hand on her right arm to steady them and it was then that he noticed that she was hot with fever.

"Buffy, your temperature..."

"I'm fine, Angel," she cut him off. "My Slayer healing keeps it in check." She chuckled wryly. "Otherwise, I would never have made it out here." She hesitated. "But this is why none, I repeat NONE, of your people are to even go near this thing. They wouldn't survive this."

"Let me worry about my people. We have resources at our disposal that you and I never dreamed of back in Sunnydale. It is quite possible that we have something here that could take this thing out."

"No, Angel. I just need a couple of days to rest up, let my arm heal, and then I'm out of your hair. You don't need to worry about this."

"Buffy, you're sick. All of your healing abilities are probably working overtime just to keep you alive. I don't see your arm healing in a couple of days. We have a fully equipped science lab and Wesley's department is top-notch at the mystical. Please, let them look at you, see if we can find a way to heal it. Maybe even get a lead on what poison it's using, give you a chance to counter it."

Buffy sighed heavily. This was what she had been afraid of. Even after all these years, the pull to just give in and let Angel take care of things was so strong. She could just close her eyes and sleep, trust that he wouldn't let the monsters in. But how many of his people would die keeping her safe? How many people would die if this monster turned its attention elsewhere? There was no choice; she had to remain detached, apart. She could not give in. No matter how tired, how scared she was, she would not hide in his arms. She was alone; it was best that way.

Conjuring an image of Angelus' face as he taunted her in one of their fights all those years ago, she hardened herself once more. As her eyes met Angel's, he was taken aback by the anger simmering just under the blank surface. "Fine. You can have them do their tests in the morning. But I'm not waiting for the cure. If they have something before I leave, great. If not, I'm not hanging around."

Angel nodded. "Ok. But why don't we schedule the tests for afternoon? It's almost morning now and you look exhausted. You should get some sleep."

"I have enough time. I don't sleep very much."

"What's 'very much?'" Angel asked. "It's only a couple of hours until dawn."

"I'll see the sunrise," Buffy replied. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to be alone."

Angel left, not wanting to upset the plans they had just made. Buffy spent a few minutes wandering the suite checking access points, making note of every tactical weakness she saw. She looked at the luxurious king-sized bed with what she was sure were feather pillows and down comforter and turned instead into the walk-in closet opening off both the bathroom and the bedroom. Sitting against a wall in a corner, she allowed herself to fall into a light sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

When Angel returned, around 9 AM, he fully expected her to be still sleeping. No matter what she had said, her exhaustion had been quite evident. He knocked softly on the door and was surprised when a moment later, he felt her stare through the peephole, followed a moment later by her opening the door. As he walked into the room, he saw a selection of weapons laid out on the floor.

"Sorry about the mess," she said. "I thought this would be a good time to do some inventory and repair work. Do you have anyone here who can repair a crossbow? It got kind of dinged when I ran out of bolts and had to…" here she pantomimed bashing someone about the head with it, then shrugged.

Angel nodded. "Yeah, we've got some of the leading experts in weapons. Why don't you set aside anything that needs to be repaired, serviced, or sharpened, and I'll have someone look at them later.

"Thanks, I appreciate that. Now, I guess you're here about the blood suckers." At Angel's confused expression, she continued. "The lab tests. I assume they're gonna want my blood."

Buffy looked warily at the throng of people crowding the otherwise relatively spacious 'hospital room' to which Angel had led her. Angel, Fred, and Wesley had conferred earlier in the morning and decided to pursue physical, technological, and mystical avenues in researching the threat against Buffy. This apparently entailed lots of people and machines of varying sizes.

Buffy took a deep breath, hopped up on the bed and rolled up her sleeve, saying, "Ok, let's get this over with."

Wesley looked concerned. "Buffy, we would like to do a little more than just a simple blood test. We'd like to observe you for a couple of hours, we have some questions for you, and I believe the doctors would like to give you some IV fluids, to help prevent any disorientation from the blood draw."

Buffy looked incredulous. "You have got to be kidding me! I didn't sign up for this." She prepared to get down from the bed.

"Please Buffy," Wesley stepped in front of her. "And, if you cooperate, afterward I'll give you a cookie." He grinned.

Buffy only just stopped herself from grinning back. She hadn't taken the effect of human interaction into account when she considered coming here. It had been so long since she had bantered with someone, shared a history (however brief) with someone. It made it that much more difficult to maintain distance. Wes's comment brought back the day she had met him; he being the stereotypical prissy Watcher, she sitting mutinous next to Giles as he gently urged her to work with Wesley. She could almost hear Giles now in her head.

"Ok. I'm your guest; I'll play by your rules." She sat back in the bed and stuck her arm out. "Hook me up."

After the medical technicians had finished drawing blood, and hung the IV bag, Wesley and Fred pulled up chairs by the side of the bed. Angel was already seated on the other side.

"So, Buffy, in order to help us interpret the test results accurately," Fred began. "We'd like to ask you some questions about your daily life. That way we can see what environmental factors may be influencing your healing."

Buffy nodded. Fred continued. "Angel said you didn't get much sleep last night. Is that normal for you?"

Buffy replied, "Yes. I usually only get a couple hours a night."

"Do you get any sleep during the day, then?" Wesley followed up.

"No."

"You must be perpetually exhausted then. I don't see how you can function."

Buffy shrugged slightly. "I just don't really feel like sleeping much." Angel felt that she was being rather evasive, but waited to see how the rest of the questions went.

Fred jumped in again. "What about food? What do you do for meals?"

Buffy grimaced. "Whatever I can. A lot of smaller towns have churches that will provide people with some food. Bigger cities have soup kitchens. If I feel it's safe, I might do some odd jobs here or there to make some quick money. Then I might buy some food to carry with me for the lean times." She yawned and blinked her eyes. "What were you saying?"

"So if you don't spend a lot of time eating or sleeping, what do you do all day?"

"Mostly train, try to keep in shape. Travel." Another yawn. "That's pretty much it. I don't go diving into toxic waste dumps or anything if that's what you're looking for."

"Is there anything you can tell us about the demon pursuing you?" Buffy yawned as she shook her head no. "At least you can describe the creature for us."

"No, I've never seen him."

"But what about your injury? Surely, you must have been close enough to see it at that point?"

She paused as if collecting her thoughts. "He… It… surprised me while I was sleeping. I… woke up when he stabbed me. I didn't stop to take notes. I just ran."

Angel interrupted. "Buffy, you said last night that you were injured fighting it."

She looked oddly at Angel, as if trying to figure out a puzzle. "You're right. We did fight. But I can't see it. It's like a big blur is in front of me. And then I'm running. And then he stabbed me…"

She stopped as a gigantic yawn overtook her. "What the…?" she trailed off. Then, looking from the IV to Wesley, she said, "What did you put in this?" She weakly brushed her free hand against the line, but couldn't dislodge it. Slowly, her eyes closed and her head dropped back against the pillow.

Angel looked at Wesley. "You drugged her!" he exclaimed.

"Look at her, Angel. She's exhausted. She needs sleep, badly."

"So, you drugged her? That's gonna help a lot in the gaining her trust area," Angel grumbled.

Fred broke in at this point. "We also need to get some cultures from the wound itself. It's really best if she's not awake for that. It's just a light sedative. She'll be up in a couple of hours." Fred stood up. "Can someone help me kinda, turn her on her side?"

Angel gently maneuvered Buffy's body to the most advantageous position for Fred to examine the wound. She gently lifted her shirt and removed the gauze bandages. When the wound was exposed, Fred stepped back, looking kind of green.

"Oh god," she said. "I mean, I've seen some nasty stuff but… she's had this for months?"

Angel looked over Buffy's shoulder from where he was holding her body steady. The wound was livid and seeping a mixture of blood and pus. He shook his head. "I must have been really tired last night. I didn't think it looked this bad. I would have insisted she come in here right away."

Fred, having controlled her revulsion, took several photos of the wound, as well as some swabs from both inside and the edges of the injury.

Angel walked out in to the hallway while Fred was finishing her work. Wesley followed him out.

"I spoke to Faith this morning," he said. "She verified Buffy's story."

"Buffy's story?" Angel repeated. "You didn't believe her?"

"Angel, we have been infiltrated before. And you have to admit that this Buffy is a far cry from the one either you or I last saw. I simply thought it best to confirm what she was telling us." Angel nodded reluctantly. "Not to mention, that Faith was able to provide details of the original killings that I would rather not ask Buffy to relive."

"So, what happened?"

"It began a little over two years ago. Dawn was the first victim. She had been on her way to meet a date. She had been very secretive, but very excited. The police wrote it up as a mugging gone bad, but according to Faith, her torso had been sliced open."

"Poor Dawnie. Buffy must have been devastated."

"She was quite beside herself. But within days of the funeral, Xander was killed. They found his body floating in a river."

"His body?" Angel questioned, catching the strange inflection in Wesley's voice.

"Yes, just his body." Wesley grimaced. "The head had been left on Buffy's pillow."

"Please don't tell me she was the one who found it."

Wesley nodded gravely. "It was then that they became sure that something was stalking them. The Slayers kept reporting feeling as if they were being watched. Two mysterious deaths in the core group of Scoobies confirmed that something was amiss. Faith indicated that Buffy became withdrawn from everyone, only speaking with her, Willow, or Giles. The four of them decided to attempt to find out who or what was behind all this by use of a spell to trace evil intent. Willow and Giles were to perform the spell, and, as they felt the focus was probably Buffy, she was present as a kind of focal point from which to start the trace."

"I'm guessing that didn't work?"

"It did work. That was the problem. The path they traced back must have been booby-trapped. There was, well, Faith only saw the tail end, but I would venture to say it was something similar to feedback along the magical lines. Willow and Giles were essentially burned from inside."

Angel felt sick. "In front of Buffy."

Wesley nodded. "This is Angelus-level torment. I'm not sure how she's even still functioning."

Wesley gave Angel a moment to assimilate the information. "Within an hour of Willow and Giles'… deaths… Buffy had packed and left. She told Faith to take charge of the girls, that she believed the creature would follow behind her. And that was the last Faith heard from her."

"And the creature? Were they bothered by it anymore? Any more feelings of being watched, surprise presents in their house?"

"None. It is after Buffy with a singular intent, it would seem. I have my staff researching all police records and Wolfram & Hart records throughout Europe and North America, looking for similar instances of brutality. But I doubt we'll find any."

"Why didn't they call us? Faith has been alone in charge of those girls for two years and…" Angel trailed off.

"Faith said that it just didn't occur to her. She also pointed out that she's not alone, Andrew is there with her." Angel groaned at the thought. "Don't worry, Angel. We have agreed that we will contact each other at least every other week to compare events. She is also open to the idea of some assistance in ideas for the training regimen."

At that point, Fred stuck her head through the doorway. "Uhhh, guys? Sorry to interrupt, but I thought you might want to see this."

Wesley and Angel hurried into Buffy's room. Fred explained as they entered. "While I was finishing up, the shamans started a ritual looking for trace signs of mystical energy around Buffy." She nodded toward where Buffy lay, still unconscious. "That's what they found."

Two dark cloudy masses hovered above Buffy's body. The larger and more amorphous of the two was situated directly over the wound in her abdomen. A smaller, more concentrated mass hovered over her chest in the general vicinity of her heart.

One of the shamans approached the three. "I think we can say with certainty that the persistence of the wound and its complications are due to a mystical influence, probably some potion or blessing invoked on the weapon itself. I am not certain as to what the heart cloud would indicate, possibly congestion of the heart chakra…"

Wesley nodded. "She suffered some severe personal losses, in part due to magic, that she did not have an opportunity to deal with. I believe that may be what is causing the chakra backup."

The shaman did not look totally convinced, but said, "Lacking other evidence, we will proceed on that assumption for now. But we will keep it in mind while researching." With that, he withdrew to research the potential spells and potions that could be involved.

Wesley mused, "Given Buffy's sketchy memory of the event coupled with this indicator of mystical influence, I would believe that something may be preventing her from being able to remember the entire attack. The blurring that she referred to may in fact be some sort of mystical mask placed over the memory in her mind."

"Well, if we assume that the core memory is intact, that the blur is an overlay, maybe Lorne would be able to read her and access the original memory. Maybe give us some of the details that she can't," Fred filled in.

Wesley nodded, looking thoughtful. "I'll ask him about it later. He said something about being absolutely swamped with A-listers this morning and he would check in around lunchtime."

Fred gathered up her supplies and samples, and said, "Well, guys, y'all might as well head back to your offices. It'll be another coupla hours before she wakes up."

Wesley nodded. "Yes, I'd better check in on the Donnelly case. They have been quite anxious the last few days."

Angel was silent, looking at Buffy. Fred and Wesley exchanged glances and, after a moment, headed out without him.

Angel walked over the bed and looked down at her. He touched her cheek, his thumb soothing the dark skin under her eyes. In his mind, he tried to reconcile this woman with the girl he had fallen in love with a decade ago. Was she still in there? Did it matter? Three years since he had last seen her, last heard from her. He had been so angry at her for giving him hope for them and then, nothing. No word, no communication. Yet, when she had shown up in LA, he found himself in the throes of those feelings once again, no questions asked.

Leaning over, he kissed her forehead softly. "Get better, my love," he whispered. With one last look, he turned and headed for his office.

It was dark all around her. She held her breath, listening. She didn't know how it had caught up with her so quickly this time, but it had been hot on her trail for the last hour. She looked around at the industrial complex she had fled into, trying to figure out what direction it'd be coming from. Maybe it was time to make a stand, stop running. Her head spun with anger, rage, grief, and exhaustion. There were very few options left.

Suddenly she heard footsteps on her right. She spun and assumed a defensive stance. Slowly a figure moved toward her out of the darkness.

"What are you doing here?" she said, with surprise and relief. "How did you know? Never mind, I'm just so happy…" Why wasn't he responding? His eyes were so…

Her eyes widened. "It was… you?" she faltered. "No, you couldn't… Why?" Her throat felt as if it was closing, her heart was clenched in an icy grip. "How could you?"

His eyes flickered from her to the weapon he held in his hands. She looked at it, numbly. I know that, she thought. It has a name. What was its name? But, no, she thought, as he raised it, moving closer. This one is different. Custom. She looked back up at his empty eyes. Made for me.

Suddenly, she snapped back to reality. Run! her brain screamed at her. She turned, took a step, felt the searing pain in her back. This is it, she thought as she fell toward the pavement. Darkness surrounded her.

In the W&H infirmary, Buffy's body shuddered.


	4. Chapter 4

Angel sat at his desk for the next hour or so, but could not concentrate on the paperwork in front of him. Not that the paperwork aspect of being CEO of Wolfram & Hart was ever his favorite thing, but all he kept thinking about was Buffy. Or to be more precise, Buffy and Nina. And why he forgot about Nina the instant he saw Buffy again. So, he was actually grateful when Harmony popped her head in his door.

"Boss?"

"Yes, Harmony. Is there an emergency? Someone needs to see me?" Angel asked almost eagerly, beginning to stand up. Anything to get his mind off the convoluted thoughts racing in circles.

"No, boss. Everything's running just fine." Angel slumped back into his chair dejectedly. "I just wanted to check with you about tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow night?" Angel echoed, with a vacant look.

"The party," Harmony said. Angel motioned her to continue. "You know, the big do to celebrate Nina's coming back from her first showing in New York?" Angel groaned and thudded his head on the desk.

Harmony sympathized. "Well, yeah, because with you know, the girlfriend coming back from a trip to find the ex-big love of your life here now, all life and deathy, and …" she trailed off at Angel's glare. Hurrying to her actual point, she said, "So, I was wondering if you wanted to postpone until after Buffy leaves." She smiled nervously.

"So, you think we should have Nina's welcome home party after she's been back for a few days?" Angel commented wryly.

Harmony shifted in her pink stiletto heels. "Well, when you put it that way… But I just thought, I mean, are you gonna invite Buffy? 'Cause that could be major tension. But if you don't, won't Nina think there's a reason you don't want them to meet? And not to mention, if Buffy finds out, I really don't want to have to clean up after pissed off Slayer!"

"Harmony, we are going to have the party tomorrow night. Nina is going to be there. If Buffy is feeling well enough, she is, of course, invited. There will be no tension, no suspicion, and no pissed off Slayer!" Angel's voice had been growing louder as he spoke as he vented his frustration on his half-wit secretary. "Now, go do your job and leave me alone!"

Harmony scurried out as quickly as she could.

Moments later, there was a knock on his door. "Harmony, whatever it is, order it, sign it, or kill it! I don't want to be disturbed."

The door opened and Wesley's head peeked in. "You know, I think that might the first time I've ever been mistaken for Harmony. I can't imagine why."

Angel smiled apologetically and waved Wesley in. "Sorry, she just reminded me about the party tomorrow night. It makes things…"

"Complicated?" Wesley suggested.

Angel sighed. "Yes. So, you'll understand that I'm hoping you've come in on an urgent matter that needs my immediate attention and has absolutely nothing to with Buffy, Nina, or even women in general."

"Yes and no."

"Which parts?"

"Bryson just called me. He said that Buffy has become agitated."

"She's awake?" Angel inquired.

"No, still unconscious, but talking in her sleep, thrashing about. I thought you'd like to go down there with me."

Angel was already heading toward the door.

* * *

As they entered the room, the nurse and a doctor were standing by the doorway, while Buffy continued mumbling incoherently, her voice tinged with desperation, shifting and moving erratically.

Angel went immediately to her bedside, while Wesley asked the attendants, "How long has she been like this?"

"About half an hour before we called you. At first, we were trying to see if we could pick out any words that she was speaking, see if anything might help with identifying her attacker or the weapon."

Angel watched her, tossing, turning, her voice wild, her breathing labored. The last time he had seen her even close to this state, was when she had absorbed a demon's mind-reading ability, and was overwhelmed with the thoughts of all those around her. At least, that time, there had been a specific cure, something he could do, that had thankfully involved beating the living daylights out of the demon's partner. This time, as he stood watching her, he felt helpless. The half words and other sounds issuing from her became more frantic and Angel could hear fear, no, not fear, but terror underlying every sound.

"Wake her," Angel said shortly.

Wesley looked at the doctor who said, "She should be waking from the sedative in the next hour or so."

"I said, Wake Her," Angel repeated, vehemently.

"Angel, you must understand," Wesley began. "It's not as if she's under anesthesia, where we can just remove the depressant effect. She was given a sedative that runs a specific course. If we counter that, there are possible detrimental effects."

"Will it kill her?" he asked the doctor.

"Well, no," the doctor replied hesitantly. "It just really isn't recommended to stack too many counter-indicated medications together, especially when we have no idea the nature of her injury."

"Then you will get whatever drug you need and you will administer it now," Angel said calmly. The doctor took one look at the cold glint in his eyes and hurried over to a counter, where he pulled a syringe from a drawer. He added the contents of the syringe to the IV drip and nodded quickly at Angel, then withdrew to the other side of the room.

Angel held her hand in one of his, and with the other, stroked her feverish forehead, murmuring calming words softly. Wesley stood on the other side of the bed, watching them, remembering a time where Buffy had been the one desperate to save a poisoned Angel, abandoning the Council, and even risking her own life to do so. After all these years, it seemed the bond between them was still just as strong as ever.

* * *

Darkness surrounded her. Images appearing and fading, faces and voices, but every time she'd reach out to touch them, her friends, her family, they faded again. Then the footsteps, the realization, the eyes, the pain. Over and over. Torment, physical then emotional, in a never-ending cycle.

Then she heard it. Words of comfort spoken in a familiar voice. Safety and love and forgiveness waited for her, if she only find him.

"Angel," she cried out, trying to move toward the voice, but something kept her rooted in the darkness. "Help me! I can't get out, Angel!" Tears crept down her face as she struggled against the invisible force. "Where are you?"

With a nearly inhuman yell, Buffy suddenly awoke, her free hand shooting out and making contact with Wesley's solar plexus, sending him stumbling back to the wall behind him. Looking around frantically, she scrambled back up the bed, till she was pressed against the wall. Angel carefully moved into her field of vision.

"Buffy?" he asked gently.

"Angel?" she replied, her breathing still labored and her skin ashen. Suddenly, she turned away from him and vomited over the side of the bed. When the convulsions stilled, she slowly pulled herself back to a seated position and looked at him accusingly. "Why? Why did you put me to sleep?"

Wesley was slowly regaining his breath, but not yet to the point where he could point out that it was he and Fred, not Angel, who had decided on the sedative.

"Well, uh, I mean really," Angel's mind whirled with 'It wasn't me' and 'They did it,' but he knew that not only would that not mean anything to Buffy, he was in charge here, and he was the one who had talked her into the tests. There were times when responsibility really sucked.

"Buffy, you were exhausted and sick. You needed sleep badly. We did what we thought best."

"You didn't even ask me why! Just like always, you make the decisions based on your criteria and the rest of us get stuck with the consequences."

"What consequences, Buffy? What happened when you were sleeping?"

"This," she replied and, taking his hand, placed it over the bandage on her back. He pulled it back sticky and red with her blood.

"It gets worse when you sleep?" questioned Wesley, still consciously controlling his breathing. "I would imagine that the movement prompted by the nightmares would account for that."

"Nightmares?" said Buffy, looking from Angel to Wesley questioningly. "What nightmares?"

Angel nodded. "You looked and sounded as if you were having one hell of a bad dream. Tossing, turning, crying out. You don't remember?"

"No," she said haltingly. "All I remember is… darkness. Sleep, dark, then blood. That's why I stopped sleeping so much." She shrugged.

"I wonder if it's part of the memory dampening," Wesley mused.

Buffy arched an eyebrow. "Memory dampening?" she mimicked.

"We have gotten enough information to determine that there was some type of mystical potion or charm on the weapon which inflicted your wound. It is that which keeps the wound from healing, and, we believe, keeps you from being able to have clear recollection of the event."

"Oh."

They were silent for a moment, allowing her to absorb the information. Then Wesley cleared his throat. "Anyway, I believe we've done everything we need you to be present for, at least at this point. If you'd like, I can ask the nurse to change your bandages and you can get out of here."

"Sounds like a plan," Buffy said.

Wesley left to track down the nurse who had scampered away when Buffy woke, making a mental note that they would have to include ability to withstand startling and violent patients in their hiring screening.

Angel stood, shifting nervously. Buffy looked at him and wondered what was on his mind. Whatever it was, if it caused that amount of anxiety, she felt she was probably better off not knowing.

"So, you got a gym in this place?" she asked.

Angel looked perplexed. "You can't be thinking of working out!" he exclaimed. "You just reaggravated that injury."

"Well, I _can_ and I _am_ ," she retorted. "Trust me, I know my limits."

Angel stopped himself from engaging in a 'who knows better' battle. "Yes. You'll find the gym on the second floor. Just ask Harmony for a visitor's pass. That'll get you in." The nurse came in and busied herself changing Buffy's dressing.

"Great, thanks."

"And, um," Angel cleared his throat. Buffy glanced up. "We're having a little get-together tomorrow night. Nothing big, just a congratulations thing for Nina; she's returning tomorrow from her first art show in New York. Just thought maybe you'd want to come. Spend some down-time with the gang."

 _Oooh, fun!_ Buffy thought. _A nice little party with the new girlfriend. Can we go back to that sleeping-nightmare thing again?_

"That sounds really nice, Angel," she replied aloud. "I can't wait to meet her."


	5. Chapter 5

Buffy took a deep breath, steeling herself for a trial of patience and grace. She walked over and said, "Hi, Harmony. Angel told me you could give me a guest pass to use the gym."

"Oh, Buffy! It's so great to see you!" Harmony tottered around the desk in her bright pink sundress to give her a hug. Buffy resisted the urge to shade her eyes. "We just have to catch up, do the girl thing, you know, now that we're on the same side."

"Same side?" Buffy repeated.

"Oh, you know, back in Sunnydale, when I used to be your archenemy? But now I work for Angel and I fight for the side of good! Yay Good!" she chattered, punching her arm skyward. Buffy inwardly grimaced as she remembered what a horrible cheerleader Harmony had been. She still sucked.

Pasting as much of a smile on her face as was possible, Buffy repeated, "The guest pass, Harmony?"

"Oh, yeah!" She circled back around to the other side of desk and rummaged through a drawer. "Here it is," she said, pulling out a plastic card on a lanyard dotted with Wolfram & Hart's logo. Handing it across the desk, she continued, "This is not a regular guest card, it's for Angel's special guests; you get access to just about anything here with that. Make sure you give that back to me before you leave. For some reason, Security gets really annoyed when I lose it."

"Gotcha. Total access." Buffy wondered if maybe she could do some snooping and find out how 'not evil' Wolfram & Hart really was these days. "By the way, is there somewhere to eat around here?"

"Oh yeah, the cafeteria is really good. It's on the second floor near the gym. Just give them the card at the register and it'll be covered. Or you could order in. There's lots of places nearby. Just tell them it's on Angel's tab."

"Generous of him."

"Well, you know… Just for his special guests, though. Like Connor stayed here a few times, Fred's parents when they come to visit, Nina when she was first…" Harmony trailed off.

Buffy almost laughed. "Has Harmony Kendal begun to learn tact? I know about Nina."

"Fine then," Harmony huffed. "When Nina started spending the night with Angel."

Buffy nodded and held up the keycard as she began to turn away. "Can't tell you how much I've missed ya, Harm." She started toward the elevator.

"Oh and Buffy?" Harmony called. Buffy turned. "I'm really sorry that Willow and Xander and that librarian guy all got killed like, right in front of you."

Buffy stared stonefaced at her for a minute then resumed her path to the elevator.

Harmony sat back down with a huff. Why did people always react like that when she was trying to be nice? It's not like she said what she really thought; that ever since she had bitten Willow all those years ago, she really hoped that she would be the one to finish her off. That girl was yummy!

* * *

Arriving at the second floor, Buffy decided that after that conversation with Harmony, what she really needed was to beat something up; even though she couldn't remember the last time she had eaten. Passing the cafeteria up for later, she proceeded to the state of the art Employee's Workout Center, which encompassed several large rooms, each with various types of equipment in them.

Finding a room with an assortment of standing and hanging punching bags, she set to work pounding out her frustration. After a couple of minutes of this, she admitted to herself that her rhythm was way off. Taking a deep breath, she decided that maybe she needed to refocus. Finding an empty room, devoid of anything but mats, she centered herself and began her Tai Chi forms, concentrating on her breath and her body.

She wasn't sure how long she had been practicing when she began aware of someone watching her. Slowly, she looked around, and saw it was the kid, Connor. He smiled at her.

"You and Angel have the same style," he said.

"Not surprising," she replied, "considering he taught me." She walked over to Connor. "So, you're Angel's miracle son?"

He looked kind of uncomfortable. "I guess," he said. "It's a long story."

"The memory erasure, yeah I know." He looked surprised. "I knew about you. So, when the spell ended, I re-knew about you. Andrew talked to Wesley and found out the story." Connor looked embarrassed. He was still not comfortable thinking about the things he had done, the pain he had felt. As often as he could, he pushed those hazy memories to the back of his mind.

"Sorry, it must be a painful subject," Buffy apologized.

Connor nodded. "A bit." Searching for a change of subject, he asked, "So, did Angel teach you to fight also?"

Buffy shrugged. "I'd been a Slayer for a while before I met him. But I guess I picked up a few things from him, yeah." She noticed Connor sizing her up.

He grinned mischievously. "You wanna show me? There's a lack of real training competition around here for someone like me."

Buffy thought that a good fight might be exactly what she needed to keep herself from getting too complacent. From what she had heard from Faith, the kid was a decent fighter; she might be able to really put some of herself into it.

Buffy's stomach rumbled. He continued, "But I think we should eat first. You look half-starved, and I'm not about to let you have any excuses when I wipe the floor with you." He grinned.

"Oh yeah? Well, if it will put your mind at ease."

"This way to the cafeteria."

As they sat eating, Connor with his college boy overflowing tray and Buffy with a small green salad and a roll, they talked for a bit. Buffy began to think that this kid was pretty all right. He had a wry sense of humor and a gift for insight into situations.

"So why are you so anxious to fight a Slayer? You've fought Faith before. She's a Slayer."

"Yeah, but one, I don't really remember that… life… too well unless I really focus, and two, I was a little too busy getting my ass kicked to really appreciate the experience." He grinned a little. "It was exhilarating though. I remember that. And I've heard that you're the best there is."

Buffy looked down at her half-eaten salad, avoiding Connor's eyes. "Not really."

"No, really. I mean, you even beat Faith."

"Where'd you hear about that?" she said sharply.

He searched his memory. "Cordelia told me, I think," he said slowly. "I was kinda raving about her and I think she was trying to imply that Faith wasn't all that." He blushed a bit about his ears as he revealed this.

"Faith is good. Really good.

"Well, yeah. But you're ' _The_ ' Slayer. You've beaten everyone out there," he gushed. "Faith, Angelus, some giant snake thing…"

Buffy cut him off. "Cordy told you all this? I didn't think she was paying that much attention." Pushing her half-eaten plate to the side, she grinned and looked at Connor, "So you ready?"

After a few minutes of stretching, they began, each slow and easy as they felt out the other's strengths and weaknesses. After realizing that Connor was far more skilled and trained than she had initially thought, Buffy stepped up the pace and Connor responded in kind. It wasn't long before they began drawing a crowd of spectators.

At first, Connor tried to grab quick glimpses to see if any of the girls his age that worked in the building were there, but Buffy, who seemed to be oblivious to the gathering crowd, kept stepping up the intensity as she became more confident in his abilities. Soon his mind was only on the fight, looking for patterns or weaknesses in her attacks. Her fighting style held a lot of characteristics reminiscent of Angel's but she had taken his style and added elements that made it uniquely hers, creating quite a challenge for Connor. It had been a while since he'd been challenged.

Buffy was also thrilled with the joined 'battle.' As much as she hated to admit it, it seemed that the sleep earlier had helped. She felt physically better than she had in a long time. Her energy was back up, her reaction times were improved. And Connor was much, much better than she had anticipated. It flashed through her mind that he had the strength and dexterity of a Slayer, except he was male.

Buffy was so caught up in adrenaline rush of the fight that she hadn't noticed the spectators, but it threw her when she felt him watching. Connor rushed in to take advantage of the momentary lapse but had underestimated how quickly she could recover her balance. She shifted her attention back to her opponent in a split second and took him down with an efficient leg sweep, followed by a quick strike with a mimed stake.

Startled by the applause, Buffy looked around, seeing their audience for the first time. Most were dispersing now that the show was over, but she hunted through to find him. There he was, coming over toward them. She offered Connor a hand up as Angel approached.

Connor grinned sheepishly. "I thought I had you there for a minute."

"Making that mistake when fighting Buffy usually means you don't get up again," Angel commented. Buffy busied herself toweling off and drinking some water from the bottle she had picked up in the cafeteria. Angel looked at Connor.

"Gunn's been looking for you," he said. "He needs some company / back up for a client visit."

"Cool," Connor replied. "I'll clean up and get up there." And with that, he hurried out to the showers.

Buffy was attempting to sneak out without having to speak with Angel but he called out to her before she got to the door. She turned and waited.

"Just wanted to give you an update," he said as he neared her. She looked at him expectantly. _Brilliant tactic, Angel,_ he thought. _It's only been a few hours._ "Well, we really haven't found anything new yet, but we've got people working around the clock on this. We'll find you an answer."

"Sure," Buffy nodded. She started walking toward the gym exit again, and Angel fell into step with her.

"Are you hungry?" Angel asked when he couldn't bear the silence anymore, which by Buffy's count was about 15 seconds.

"No, I ate earlier with Connor. He's nice, Angel. And a fantastic fighter. There were a couple of times there where he really made things tough for me."

"Great." Angel nodded. They reached the lobby and waited for the elevator.

"So," Buffy began as they boarded the elevator car. "To avoid any unnecessary killing of your clients, can you point me to a good place to patrol tonight?"

"You're going to patrol?"

"Well, being the Slayer, I thought…"

"I thought you were trying to stay out of sight these days," Angel interrupted.

"Well, out of sight is one thing. Ignoring Slayer instincts is another. As much as I hate to admit it, Faith had some things right. Being a Slayer is part of me. It's a Need as much as a Calling. Basic, primal; food, fighting, and…" Buffy cut herself off at this point.

Angel, trying to cover his astonishment at how like Faith she was acting, said, "No need to censor yourself. I've had enough talks with Faith to know how that one ends."

"So, either point me to an area I can patrol without damaging your business, or I pick and you take your chances."

"I'll meet you in the lobby at sundown."

"Angel, I wasn't looking for an extra stake. You can just tell me."

The elevator doors opened to the lobby of Angel's office. He stepped out quickly, saying, "I've got a meeting right now. We can talk about this later." The doors closed on Buffy's infuriated face.

Buffy's anger had settled to annoyance by the time she returned to her room. Really, had she expected anything different of Angel? Rolling her eyes, she unlocked the door and entered the suite. As she typically did when returning to whatever residence she inhabited, she made a thorough inspection of her possessions, quickly deducing that someone had been snooping through her things. She had been prepared for this between Wolfram & Hart's need for omniscience and Angel's constant meddling. She shook her head and began gathering together weapons for that night's patrol.

* * *

Angel sat back in his chair as he listened to Steven, a relatively low-level operative from Wesley's field research team. "Weapons that show extensive use and wear. A knapsack, a change of clothes, basically identical to what she's wearing now. No bugs, no tracking devices. Nothing to identify the owner of the items. Very Spartan, if I may say so."

Angel furrowed his brow. "What about personal mementos? Photographs, diary?"

"Nothing sir. Nothing at all of a personal nature."

"Not even Mr. Gordo?" Angel asked.

His employee frowned in consternation. "Sir?"

Angel stammered, feeling a little foolish. "A, um, a … a stuffed pig."

"No, sir. No animals of any sort."

"And you looked everywhere?"

"Yes sir." Deciding to take some initiative, Steven volunteered his view of the situation. "Sir, she has the basic pick-up-and-go kit; the same as you'd find with any spy, assassin, mercenary. No unnecessary objects, nothing to link her to anyone of a personal relationship. Eventually, that becomes the person's life. No extraneous relationships, no reminders of previous friends. No matter how hard we look, I don't think we'll find whatever you're looking for."

Angel nodded and dismissed him. _What am I looking for?_ Angel wondered. Some proof that she's not as detached as she seems. Proof that she feels something about their deaths? Some way he could bring her back from whatever dark place she had locked her heart away in? She had always believed that her family and friends were what gave her strength. Where did she find that strength now that they were gone?

After a few moments, he looked over at Lorne, who had been sitting on the couch during the meeting. "Well?" he asked.

"Well, what, gumdrop? I can't do a reading on a person who's not even in the room, much less singing her tormented little heart out."

"I know," Angel grumbled. "But will you?"

"Will I what?" Lorne asked. "Will I read her, the very dangerous, best-ever, super-Slayer that could rip my horns off with her pinky? Who also happens to be under the influence of very powerful magics, with which we've had such success in the past…"

"Okay Lorne, I get the point. It's not a no-risk situation. But, if she agrees to it, will you?"

"With grave misgivings, peach pie… I will."

* * *

Buffy paced restlessly in the lobby, looking out at the dusk deepened. _One more minute,_ she thought, _and I go without him._ She almost hoped he didn't show. Slaying had not been a social event for her for a long time. Besides what were they supposed to talk about?

"So Angel, how's the sun-filled, parent kinda lifestyle that you told me you could never have?" or

"Let me tell you all my deepest, darkest secrets; how painful losing everyone was."

Didn't seem likely.

 _Screw this,_ she thought and started for the door, just as Angel emerged from the elevator. _Damn._

She waited sullenly by the door for Angel to cross the lobby.

"You're late," she snapped.

"We said sundown, which is pretty much now," he replied evenly.

"Shadows were long enough, we could've left 15 minutes ago. Spike did that all the time."

Angel bristled. He knew she was deliberately trying to bait him, hoping he would not come along. But there was no way he was letting her go alone. She had been alone for entirely too long. She had to start connecting with people again.

"Well, I'm here now. So let's go."

Angel led her to a part of town where there was a lot of run-of-the-mill vampire activity on a regular basis and then stood back and watched. Really, there was nothing else for him to do. She was a one-woman death machine.

The first genuine smile he'd seen on her face appeared as she drove her stake into the chest of the first unlucky vamp looking for a quick snack. When they spotted a cadre of vamp toughs, she rushed them immediately; she fought as if she didn't care if she lived or died. She fought like Faith.

Angel was frozen by the comparison, and its potential implications. He had thought the earlier conversation in the elevator had been bravado or an attempt to get a rise out of him. But what he was seeing now indicated that she had indeed adopted most, or all, of Faith's lifestyle and attitude from Sunnydale.

They had all failed Faith back then. And though, ultimately, she had regained her path, he didn't want to repeat the same pattern here with Buffy. But how? She was even more guarded than Faith had been. Any bit of connection and she instantly pulled back. Angel marveled at how their roles had reversed over the years. When he had first met her in Sunnydale, she had been his savior, his link to humanity. After a century of hiding from people for decades at a time, he could not establish effective communication with anyone else. Now, she was lost, alone, and without ties, and he was the one surrounded by friends and laughter.

She jogged back over to him after finishing the last of the vamps, eyes bright, breath quick. "Okay, I think I'm good for now," she said. "We can head back."

When Buffy returned to her room, she delightedly realized that she could take a real shower without threat of discovery for the first time in a very long time. As she entered the bathroom, she realized that she didn't have any toiletries with her. Just before she turned to go see if she could find someone to dig some up, she noticed that the bathroom came fully stocked. _And with the good stuff,_ she thought. She picked up a bottle of body lotion on the counter and looked at it; it was the same type she had used back in Sunnydale. Could Angel have remembered?


	6. Chapter 6

After seeing Buffy to her room, Angel met up with the others in his office for a progress report. Judging by everyone's expressions, it would be a short meeting.

Fred went first. "We don't think any technological devices were used on Buffy. No nanotechnology, no medical devices, nothing. I'm afraid I'm not going to be much help to you, Angel," she finished unhappily.

"Actually, Fred," Angel replied. "I'd like to talk to you before you leave tonight about something I think only you can help with." Her mood perked up at that.

Gunn went next. "I've had my people checking police and D.A. reports all over the US. Nothing is showing up with the M.O. of Buffy's attacker." There was a look on his face that made Angel think he was holding something back.

"What else?" Angel asked.

Gunn cleared his throat. "Well, there have been clusters of cases that might fit the definition of… I think Buffy may have made a splash in a few places," he finished quickly.

"Buffy?" Angel repeated.

"Not anything in the mass murder sense." Angel noticed Wesley relax slightly and knew he had been picturing Faith's rampage when she had first come to LA. "Mostly some burglaries, food, sporting goods stores, like that."

"Mostly?" Angel inquired.

Gunn wished he were anywhere else, even fighting that horrible demon from last year that had acid-ridden snot and had ruined his best Armani. "There have been some cases of personal injury, which in all likelihood were caused by someone with extreme strength."

"Gunn, if you don't give me the whole story right now, I am going to," Angel thought for a moment. "I will play the video of the Christmas party two years ago with you singing to Lorne's karaoke machine. I will play that for every new hire in your department forever."

 _Rock and a hard place,_ Gunn thought. "Okay. It was mostly lowlifes, as far as the police can tell, but they are looking for a serial, well not murderer, but maybe a serial maimer. Probably these were junkies, pimps, street toughs that gave your girl a hard time. She gave them a hard time back. Pretty severe beatings, broken bones, internal injuries in some cases, one broken neck. Nothing to conclusively link it to Buffy, but if you know what you're looking for, the pieces fit."

Angel exchanged concerned glances with Wesley. A Slayer on her own, without the advice of a Watcher, without the structure of Council rules or the evening influences of friends and family, could turn into a terrorizing force. The power, combined with the decisions that had to be made nightly, could evolve into a belief that she was apart from the people she was entrusted to protect. Buffy had always considered human life sacrosanct, going out of her way to not physically engage humans. If she had indeed perpetrated these crimes, she may be well on her way to crossing that line. _Or already across it_ , Angel thought with an inward shudder.

"There was one anomalous case. Probably wouldn't have connected it to her except there was a photo attached to the police report," Gunn continued, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "A group of four college kids, 3 boys, 1 girl, were found in an alley in Cleveland."

"Buffy didn't…?" Angel interrupted, but was unable to bring himself to vocalize his fear.

"No," Gunn answered. "Wild animal attack is the official ruling."

"Then why…?"

"They are looking for Buffy as a 'person of interest.' The kids all worked or hung out at this bar. Buffy also worked there at the time. And she hasn't been seen there since that night."

"Well, maybe she," Wesley began, but Gunn cut him off.

"That's the official report. However, as Cleveland seems to be a demonic party spot, we have some underground informants in the area. The word went out in the demon community that the Slayer had stood there and watched those kids get killed; she didn't lift a finger to help them."

There was silence in the room for a minute. Finally, Angel said, unconvincingly, "I'm sure, if that is accurate, that there was a reason we don't know about."

"Yeah," Gunn replied. "Like the reason you had when you locked Darla and Dru in with a room full of our predecessors."

"No, that was… I…" Angel stammered, and then fell quiet as he realized that he had indeed had a reason that had seemed perfectly rational at the time, but when he looked back at it, didn't stand up under scrutiny.

Angel sat back heavily in his chair. "Is that it?" he asked Gunn. Gunn nodded. Angel was silent for a moment, then speculated, "Maybe this spell that's weakening her is affecting her behavior? Wesley?"

Wesley began his report. "Unfortunately, Angel, I believe that the behavior issues are the result of extreme emotional distress. Many of the incidents Gunn found happened prior to the attack on Buffy, which is where we believe the spell effect was transmitted." Angel nodded unhappily. He hadn't really expected a different answer. Wesley continued. "I believe we may be looking at more than one spell or charm. One to obscure the memory of the caster and another to delay physical recovery. However, we can't counter either spell until we know the exact one used."

"How hard is that to find out?" Fred asked.

Wesley sighed. "In this case, it seems to be rather difficult. The obscuring spell is quite powerful. Spells of that level often involve particular artifacts that would be difficult to get a hold of. We are trying to determine if any of those artifacts have surfaced or gone missing recently. Maybe give us an idea of where to look. Also, we've been contacting any of the major players in the magickal community to see if they have designed or cast such a spell in the last year. I am also researching our own archives looking for ideas for the counterspell."

"Well," Angel remarked darkly. "She's only staying here a few days, at best. We've got to find something out that will help, and we have to find it soon. Go home and get some sleep. Especially Fred, you've got a big day tomorrow."

"Oh," she exclaimed. "Do you need help setting things up for Nina's party?" It would be a relief to concentrate on mundane tasks for once.

Angel shook his head, then said, "Well, in a way." At Fred's questioning look, he continued. "I'd like you to take Buffy out for the day. Try to remind her of the life she used to have – do the girly thing."

"Angel, you know I'm not overly girly. I wouldn't know what to do."

"Just say you want company getting primped for the party tomorrow night. Go get your nails and hair done. Get her some new clothes." Seeing Fred's expression was still hesitant, Angel followed up with, "Use the company credit card." He thought Cordelia would have been proud at how quickly Fred went from reserved to enthused with just that one sentence.

* * *

The next morning, Fred nervously knocked on the door to Buffy's suite. She had no idea how Buffy would take to this idea.

Buffy answered the door, and was surprised to see the science girl, Fred, standing there. "Umm, can I help you?" she asked guardedly.

Fred stuck her hand out. "Hi Buffy, I'm Fred."

Buffy shook her hand briefly, commenting, "Yeah, I caught your name before."

"Oh, yeah," Fred tittered nervously. "I just, well, I have no idea why I said that. I mean, of course you met me… the other night with the meeting in Angel's office. And yesterday, what with the drawing blood. I just get nervous sometimes and then I start with the babbling and…"

Buffy cut her off before she ran out of oxygen. "That's all right. Was there something you needed to talk to me about? Do you need more blood for the tests or anything?" Involuntarily, she remembered Willow talking about how much she had liked this girl; Buffy had believed she had had quite the crush on Fred. Now, seeing her in person, Buffy understood the attraction. She was quite intelligent by all accounts, and very much like Willow in the nervous babbling department.

"Well, the thing is, I was hoping to go out today and do some girly type things to get ready for tonight's party. And, it's always nicer to have company along. So, I was thinking, it would be really neat if you and I went out and had a girls' day and I could get to know you and, well, I think it would be really fun," Fred sounded embarrassed. _Really fun?_ she thought. _How lame_.

"Girly type things? Like manicures and hairstyling?" Almost without noticing, Buffy had pulled her hair forward, glancing at the mass of split ends that it had become. This was the last thing she wanted, to go spend a day with this sweet, endearing, Willow-like girl.

Seeing her reticence, Fred continued. "I mean, there aren't really a lot of girls around I can go do these things with. There's no way I could ask Harmony, cause when she and I go out, things just get weird and then with the death and all." Buffy raised her eyebrows and Fred shook her head. "Don't ask. Please. Plus you wouldn't have to pay for anything. It's all covered."

 _And the pieces fall into place_ , Buffy thought. "Angel asked you to do this, didn't he?" Without even waiting for an answer, she went on, "Man, he is unbelievable! Does he play puppet master with you all too, or is it a treat reserved only for me?"

Fred giggled. "Funny you should mention puppets. Did Angel ever tell you about the time he was turned into a puppet?"

This was sufficiently unexpected to shock Buffy into momentary silence. "A puppet?" she finally stammered.

Fred got a sneaky gleam in her eye, as she reached to hook her arm through Buffy's and lead her down the hall. "I'll tell you all about it while we're getting our nails done."

Fred was shocked as the day went on. Buffy had mentioned on their way to the day spa that she 'wanted to exercise Angel's credit limit.' Fred had no idea how very literal that goal was. Buffy was rivaling Cordelia in the taking advantage of pampering opportunities category. She had her hair cut, lightened, styled; her legs and brows waxed; bought a ton of makeup; as well as having a manicure, pedicure, facial, and massage. It was as they were making their way to the clothing store that was their final stop that Fred brought up Angel's secondary objective.

"So Buffy, you know that we are having some problems getting to the root of what's happening to you."

Buffy tensed. For a while today, she had felt some semblance of relaxation. While not totally letting down her guard, she had stopped glancing over her shoulder every other minute. The reminder of her situation was somewhat unwelcome. However, it was probably best not to get too comfortable. She gestured to Fred to go on.

"Well, we have one more avenue that we'd like to try out. You met Lorne the other night?" Buffy nodded. "He's an empath demon, which means he can read you. He can kind of see what your path is supposed to be and where you are on it. We were thinking if you let Lorne read you, he might be able to see what happened to you."

Buffy shrugged. "Why not? It seems a lot less painful than hypos and IVs." She didn't understand why Fred seemed so uncomfortable bringing it up.

"Yeah, there's just one thing about it. You, um, well, he can only read you if you sing for him."

Buffy's eyebrows shot up. "Sing?" she repeated.

Fred answered quickly. "We've all done it at one time or another. Even Angel. It doesn't have to be a lot, just a line or two."

Buffy wasn't sure about that. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd listened to music, let alone sing. Fred was looking at her anxiously, waiting for an answer.

"I'll think about it." With that she turned into the store.

As they browsed, Buffy casually asked Fred, "So are there gonna be any available men at this thing?"

"Available," Fred repeated. "Oh! Available, as in…"

Buffy nodded. "Nothing serious, but I could use a little distraction," she said.

"Distraction." That sounded bad. "Buffy," she began tentatively, "If you're worried about things being awkward with Nina and Angel, you really shouldn't be concerned. They're not really into PDAs; well, Angel's not."

Buffy laughed. "No, it's not about that. I'm happy for Angel, really. I just was looking for a little release, if I can find someone…"

"Available," Fred finished for her. "Really, I pretty much can only speak to the core gang. I think you've already met everyone." Buffy looked up from the top she was examining and motioned Fred to continue. She swallowed, feeling very uncomfortable. These were her friends and she didn't like the idea of anyone using them for 'release.' By this time Buffy was just staring at her. Soon Fred's babbling filled the silence. "Well, Wesley and I are seeing each other, so he's, you know, _not_ available. Ummm… I know Gunn had been seeing someone, but I'm not sure what the status of that relationship is right now. He tends to get real serious though and is a really good guy. And, well, there's Lorne, but I've never really been sure what or who he's attracted to. He really is the sweetest being you'll ever meet and always so friendly and …"

Buffy cut her off. "I get it," she smiled. "You don't want me messing with your friends' heads. Don't worry. I won't make anyone do anything they don't want to."

* * *

Nina arrived back at the Wolfram & Hart offices a little after 4:00 PM. She immediately made her way up to Angel's office, smiling when she opened the door and saw him staring intently at the papers spread out before him on his desk.

"You work too hard," she said as she closed the door behind her. He looked up, startled that he hadn't heard her enter, as she walked over to him and pulled his chair back from his desk. Sitting in his lap, she wound her arms around his neck and kissed him. She pulled back when his response was, at best, half-hearted. "I could hear it in your voice the last few days. You're exhausted." She stood up and took his hands in hers. "Now, you're going to take the rest of the day off and we are going upstairs and going to… relax," she purred.

Angel grimaced. Not only was that not a possibility because of the welcome home celebration starting in less than an hour, but he wasn't even sure that it was a particularly appealing prospect at this point. And he really didn't feel like delving into the thought processes surrounding that idea. "Nina," he began gently. "I really need to get back to this research." She started to pout. "Plus, we have planned a 'surprise' welcome home party for you." He shrugged. "Not so much a surprise now, I guess. But everyone's going to be here around 5:00 to celebrate your big New York debut."

Nina suppressed a groan. Angel and his friends. They were always there. It didn't help living in the office building where they all worked. But really, sometimes, she just wanted to get away from the freaky lives they led. "That's so sweet of all of you. But we've got a little time. Why don't you come up and help me change my clothes?" She gently tugged him toward the elevator.

Angel disengaged his hands from hers. "I really can't. I need to work on this research," he said, indicating the piles of papers and books on his desk.

"You always have to research. I know that your job occasionally entails actual world ending responsibility, but nothing's going to happen in the next 45 minutes."

"Nina, this is really important."

"It's always important to someone, Angel. That's why you have to take time away from it." Nina couldn't believe that they were already having the same old fight. She'd only been back five minutes!

"Not just someone. It's important to me, personally." Angel bit back a growl of frustration. He had hoped to be able to tell her about Buffy in a relaxed, off-the-cuff kind of way. Now was pretty much the opposite of what he had envisioned. "It's about Buffy."

"Buffy." Nina's heart skipped a beat. Buffy. The only person from Angel's past that he would absolutely not talk about. Not that he was overly forthcoming about any of his past, but aside from her name and that he had had a relationship with her in Sunnydale, he wouldn't say a word. All she knew about their relationship came from second- and third-hand accounts and bits of gossip around the office. So, great, the superhero ex-girlfriend was now back in the picture.

"The high school girl?" she asked, trying to buy time to form a coherent response to this news.

"Well, she's not in high school anymore. She graduated in '99."

"Of course. So she brought you a case? And you have to drop everything for her?"

"That's not exactly it. It's more… well, Buffy is the case. She's being stalked by something very powerful and very tenacious. She's been injured and needed a safe place to stay for a bit. So, she came here."

"Of course she did," Nina smiled. At least she didn't have to worry about romantic competition. This 'Slayer' wasn't coming in all powerful and great and making Angel think about what he had missed out on. No, she was coming here all needy and beaten. "You always take care of the helpless. When did she get here?"

"A few nights ago. We've been working on this case pretty much 24-7 since. And she's not helpless." Something somewhere deep inside would not let Angel allow such a slight to pass unnoticed. "Whatever is after her is extremely powerful, both physically and mystically. Yet she has still managed to stay alive for close to three years with it on her tail."

Nina noted the defensive tone in her lover's voice and a cold chill passed through her. Maybe Angel was more attached to this warrior woman than she had suspected.

"OK, baby," she cooed, changing her tactics. "I'm gonna go take a hot shower and change for the party. Maybe I'll get to meet Buffy sometime?"

"She'll be there tonight," he replied, already distracted as he turned back toward his desk and his research. He therefore missed the dark look flash across Nina's face as she turned to take the elevator upstairs.


	7. Chapter 7

By the time Nina had finished her shower and gotten dressed, she had recovered her composure, assured that she was simply being silly. She got dressed in an outfit that was appropriately slinky without being slutty, spent maybe a little extra time on her makeup and hair, and made her grand entrance just after five.

She kept an eye out for Buffy while accepting hugs and handshakes, 'welcome home's and 'congratulations' from everyone. Well, every one of their combined friends. None of Nina's friends or family were present, due to the demon-y appearance of several of the partygoers. So far, she hadn't seen any strangers wandering the festive lobby.

If there was one thing Harmony did do well, it was to plan a party. The walls were covered with newspaper reviews and clippings of Nina's art. There was an hors d'oeuvre buffet table and a fully stocked refreshments table. Chairs were scattered strategically in groups of three and four. Music was playing and some people were taking advantage of the open floor area to dance.

As Nina sat sipping her drink with Angel, Wesley, and Fred, the elevator doors opened and out stepped a pretty blonde in a strikingly sexy outfit. The black one shoulder blouse had an opaque liner that covered only what it had to, trailing sheer fabric past the hips which opened in front to reveal a taut midriff decorated with a shiny belly ring. The faded jeans were form-fitting and extremely flattering to her thin figure. She wore club makeup and tousled hair and everything about her was screaming that she was looking to party. A glance at Angel and Wesley sitting, mouths agape, and Fred looking like she wished she were anywhere else, confirmed that this must be the infamous Buffy. Nina began to get a little worried. This wasn't the poor, weak thing that she had envisioned.

Buffy slithered her way across the dance floor, hips and shoulders rotating, and picked up a drink from the refreshments table. Returning to the floor, she soon found herself surrounded by several of the male partygoers. Nina smiled to herself, and mentally patted herself on the back for not pushing the conversation with Angel earlier. Obviously, this Buffy had no interest in Angel anymore. But just the same, it wouldn't be a bad idea to keep tabs on him while she was around.

Over the next hour, Angel kept one eye on Buffy as she danced almost constantly, only taking a break to be introduced to the guest of honor and give her congratulations. Again, the comparison with Faith was too strong to ignore, as he thought back to their 'dances' at the Bronze, when they drove the teenage boys into frenzies. She took a break only once to come over and meet the guest of honor. Timing it with the elevator arriving with a new load of well-wishers (or brown-nosers trying to suck up to the boss's girlfriend) enabled her to get away with a simple "Hi, it's nice to meet you."

While on the dance floor, Buffy hardly took notice of any of her dance partners. Despite the underlying truthfulness of her earlier conversation with Fred, she really didn't care if these men were responding to her or not. She was constantly sneaking glimpses of Nina. She was almost always with Angel, her arms around him, or running her hand across his back. She was pretty, Buffy grudgingly acknowledged, and she definitely had her life together if these news reviews had anything to say about it, but it was the casual intimacy she had with Angel that really struck home. Years of being with him, day in and day out, comforting him after a hard night's work, making love with him. Buffy's imagination was running wild. The worse her visualizations became, the more she threw herself into the music.

Angel cornered Fred. "I told you to take her out for girly-type stuff; not to get her ready for a girly magazine!"

Fred said apologetically, "The outfit didn't look so..." she searched for an appropriate word, "well, extreme in the store. And the makeup and hair are both since we got back. I'm sorry, Angel."

He shook his head. There was no point in blaming Fred for this; it wasn't her fault. And he didn't really have any claim on Buffy anymore, he knew deep down. After all, he was here with his live-in girlfriend. So why did he feel like he wanted to blindfold every male in the place?

Buffy took a break from the dancing and wandered over to the refreshment table to nibble at some finger foods. As she stood there perusing the options, Nina approached her. Buffy felt her stomach tense. She had done her duty, met her, been civil; to be expected to carry on a conversation with the perfect, nearly normal woman who had taken her place was really too much. Taking a deep breath, she mentally repeated her mantra: _It doesn't matter. I feel nothing._ But she couldn't stop her heart from speeding up just a little. She really wished Willow were here to help with the hating.

Nina smiled warmly at Buffy. While she believed that Angel's ex presented no real threat to their relationship, it still made sense to make sure Buffy knew her place in the grand scheme. The fact that she was taller than Buffy helped make it more concrete as she could look down at her throughout their conversation.

"Buffy, it is so nice to finally get to meet you. You're the only one of Angel's exes who isn't a demon or dead."

"Angel's talked about me?" Buffy questioned blankly. She hated the thought of being discussed and dissected with this new woman. What was he saying?

"Oh yes," Nina chuckled. "We have no secrets from each other. Angel told me all kinds of stories from when he dated you. I can just picture him dancing with you surrounded by a bunch of high school kids." Nina was taking a chance here, but if they really went out during most of her high school years, it stood to reason that he had gone out dancing with her and her friends at least once.

Buffy stood stunned. Did he tell her about Prom? About poor little Buffy's 'obsession' with the perfect high school memory? She felt the blood draining from her face, and fought to maintain her composure. She glanced away ( _It doesn't matter. I feel nothing.)_ and back at Nina. "That's good. I'm glad you know. I do hate having to watch what I say around people," she said stiffly.

When Buffy had turned her head, Nina was startled to notice a faint bite shaped scar on her neck. Angel never even hinted that he had engaged in bloodplay since his ensoulment. Then again, if he was into that, Nina wouldn't have wanted to hear it.

"Oh, I know everything. Really, I'm glad you were there to help him make that difficult transition back into society. You were really good for him. He thinks quite fondly of you."

It was really true. Their relationship was nothing more than a distant memory for him. There were no special memories, anything he held sacred; it was all out there for anyone to know about. Buffy felt her chest tightening, and searched desperately for a way to get herself out of this situation.

"And I think it's so good that you felt like you can still come to him when you're in trouble," Nina continued. "He told a little bit about it when we had a little chance to… _talk_ before the party." Her coyly embarrassed smile implied exactly what made their time to talk so short. Inside her head, Buffy was screaming.

Suddenly, Buffy felt a tearing pain in her back, automatically pressing her hand to the pain. When she drew it away, it was sticky with blood.

Angel, talking with Fred across the room, noticed her eyes widen as she watched something behind him at almost the same time he caught the scent he had noticed the other night, Slayer blood. He turned as Buffy fell onto her knees.

Buffy couldn't catch her breath. The wound burned like fire, the room spun crazily around her, and her legs buckled beneath her. Dimly, she heard Angel shouting her name. She looked up to see him standing over her. When did he get there? She tried to tell him that something was wrong, but her brain didn't seem to be making her mouth make the right noises.

Nina stepped back, a dismayed look on her face. She looked around at everyone converging on Buffy and said, "I didn't do anything!"

Fred looked sharply up at this remark, but Angel was preoccupied with assessing Buffy's status. As he reached for her to try to get her to a chair, he gasped, "She's burning up."

Wesley leaned over, "Angel, we've got to get her back to the infirmary now."

"No!" Buffy cried. "Angel, don't take me there."

"Buffy," he tried to reason with her. "We've got to get your fever down."

"No," she was practically sobbing now. "No more sewer talks. Please."

Realizing that she was delirious from the fever, Angel scooped her up into his arms, cradling her against his shoulder to try to ease the discomfort on her wound. Wesley went ahead of him to get the elevator, while Angel asked Fred to call ahead to the infirmary to let them know they were on their way. For a beat, Fred stood there staring at Nina, who remained frozen with a shocked look on her face. Then she turned, went to Harmony's desk, and called the medics.

Fred, Gunn, Lorne, and Connor then followed Angel and Wesley down to the infirmary.

As Angel and Wesley hurried Buffy to the infirmary, Angel felt his concern mounting. Her fever seemed to increase by the moment and her ramblings were taking less and less coherent form. He felt increasingly helpless as she talked to, and cried out for, her friends and family.

They entered the infirmary where the doctor and nurses had already prepared and immediately placed Buffy on her stomach on the bed, surrounding her with cold packs. The doctor noted her vitals as one nurse attached an IV and drew blood while a second cut away Buffy's shirt and removed the bandage from the wound. She gasped as the wound was exposed to view.

Wesley whispered, "Angel?"

"I see it, Wes," he nodded. "That looks… It looks like it just happened. But we were there. Nothing attacked her."

The visible signs of inflammation surrounding the gash were markedly worse than the night she had arrived. Red rivers spidered out from the center across her back. There was a mixture of pus and blood seeping from the wound that would not be staunched.

The others arrived and were also astonished by the unexplained worsening of Buffy's injuries. As they stood there, each trying to develop an explanation for this new development, her mumbled ravings reached a fevered pitch. "Angel, no! Please!" Angel started to the bedside, but one of the nurses motioned him back.

The doctor said curtly, "It's too busy in here. Please move out of the room, so we can do our jobs." To the nurse, he added, "Start IV antibiotics, and debride the wound."

Connor put his hand on Angel's arm and motioned his head toward the hallway. "Let's wait out there. You'll know the instant anything changes," he said softly. Angel reluctantly acquiesced, following the rest into the hallway with one last look back.

"What the hell is going on here, Wesley?" Angel exploded as soon as they were out of the medical room.

Wesley winced. Angel, soul or no soul, did not take well to things out of his control harming those he cared about. He could become quite aggressive in expressing his displeasure. Judging by the tension in his voice, they were nearing that point. Of course, were it Fred on that table, he'd probably shoot anybody not cooperating, so, he supposed he understood Angel's feelings. But he didn't want to be on the wrong end of them.

"Honestly, Angel, I don't know. I can't begin to guess what aggravated the injury or even if it's part of the charm."

"Not good enough. You've been researching over a day. Haven't you found anything out?"

Wesley bristled. Before things got too out of hand, Fred stepped in. "Guys! I have an idea." Seconds passed before the posturing relaxed, and all heads turned to Fred.

"When we saw the manifestation of the charm cast on Buffy, we discounted the shading over her heart area due to, well, her recent losses. But what if we were wrong? What if it _is_ part of the spell? Somehow, they've linked her emotional state to the physical injury."

Gunn shook his head. "What do you mean, linked?"

"What if extreme emotional states trigger a worsening of her symptoms? The more extreme the emotion, the worse the physical manifestation."

Connor looked sick. "So, in a way, she's in control of whether she lives or dies? She can try not to feel anything or this happens?"

Fred nodded. "I think so. I mean, it makes sense. The wound was bleeding the first night she saw you, Angel, right? The next time it got noticeably worse was when she dreamed of the attack, probably prompting fear or hatred. And now, tonight," Fred concluded, matter-of-factly.

"What do you mean, 'tonight?'" Angel asked. "What about tonight?"

"Well," Fred replied, "She was talking with Nina right before this happened."

Angel shrugged. "So?"

Fred sighed. "Sometimes it is still just absolutely amazing to me that you have a romantic history spanning multiple centuries, and yet you still seem to know absolutely nothing about women." Even with the tense situation, everyone had to hide their grins. "Your _ex_ girlfriend was talking with your _current_ girlfriend. You don't think there was some emotional current going on there?" Fred didn't mention the other reason she was suspicious: Nina had acted so defensive when it happened, she must have been doing, saying, or thinking something.

Angel hemmed and hawed, but ultimately had to admit that Fred was probably right. "Ok, Wesley, does this give you anything new to go on?"

Wesley nodded. "This is definitely a unique characteristic. I can get started on the new research first thing in the morning." He glanced at his watch, "Which is only a few hours away. Why don't we all go get some sleep?"

Lorne cleared his throat. "I love sleep as much as the next red-eyed demon, but, uh, shouldn't we tell the doc what we've figured out?"

Wesley looked embarrassed at the oversight. "Yes, of course. They may be able to use it to help her recovery from this episode."

"You all go get your sleep. I'll talk to the doctor," Angel said. "I think I'm going to be staying down here for a while, anyway," he added, looking through the door to where Buffy lay, still fidgeting and talking in delirium.

After hearing the latest theory, the doctor added Valium to the medications being given to Buffy. Within an hour, her fever was down to tolerable levels and the infection was under control. She drifted in and out of consciousness as Angel sat by the bed; the doctor did not think it advisable for her to leave their care until they were sure that the infection was truly in remission.

Around 4:00 in the morning, Nina's voice echoed in the quiet room from the doorway. "So, you're not coming to bed?"

Angel flinched at the harshness of the sound breaking the soothing monotony of the quiet medical sounds indicating that Buffy was recovering. He got up and walked toward her. "I'm not _not_ going to bed. It's just that someone should be here with her," he indicated Buffy.

"That sounds like the doctor's job."

"It's not medical. She's recovering nicely. She just hates hospitals." Neither of them noticed Buffy's eyes fluttering open as she swung to a vaguely conscious state.

"Well, this is an infirmary, not a hospital. Problem solved!" Nina said brightly. Angel glowered at her. "Angel, it's just that I've been away for over a month. I kind of thought you'd want to be with me as much as I want to be with you." Buffy closed her eyes again, wishing she were anywhere else.

"I do," Angel replied. _I think._ "But…"

"But she takes priority over me," Nina finished bitterly. "Just like your friends' misadventures, your job, just about everything!"

"Please, Nina, let's not have this fight again. Not here. Not tonight." Angel looked behind him to make certain they weren't disturbing Buffy.

"When, Angel? Look, when this wolf thing happened, you promised me that I could still live a normal life. Where is that normality?"

Angel looked at her compassionately. "I said normality was possible despite the werewolf. I never said it was possible with me. My work, my friends, the whole deal… it's my life. I don't want to get away from it. And yes, there are things that are going to take immediate priority over our relationship at times. That doesn't mean I don't care."

"Whatever," Nina sighed in disgust. She turned and walked out.

* * *

Fred snuggled under the covers. "Wesley?" she said softly.

"What is it Fred?" Wesley asked, as he pulled her into his arms and snuggled her against him. He breathed in the scent of her hair and once again thought himself the luckiest man in the world.

Fred paused. Really, the situation with Nina was none of their business. She buried her head against Wesley's chest and mumbled, "Never mind."

They slept.

* * *

After what Buffy felt was a reasonable interval following Nina's departure, she drowsily opened her eyes to see Angel sitting in a chair next to her bed, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. The sooner she left, the better. On top of putting them all in danger from whatever was hunting her, her presence here was harming his relationship with Nina, even if it didn't sound as if it were on the most stable footing to begin with. He deserved to have a fulfilling life without her around throwing monkey wrenches into everything.

Feeling her stare, Angel looked up at her. Immediately composing his face to mask the internal struggle he was feeling at the moment, he smiled. "How are you doing? You gave us a bit of a scare."

Buffy made a kind half shrug and said, "I feel kind of like I've been skewered, smushed, and run through a cement truck." Her face took on a questioning look. "What happened?"

Angel decided the simple explanation was best for now, leaving the theories to Fred and Wesley in the morning. "You collapsed at the party. Your fever spiked and the infection was kind of running rampant in your system." He suppressed a tremor as he remembered how dangerously sick she had been only hours earlier.

Buffy did a basic physical assessment of herself, and looked at Angel. "But all better now, right?"

"Well, they want you to stay at least until morning." Buffy groaned. "You were very sick, Buffy." He looked around and grabbed some magazines of the bed table. "Lorne brought these for you. He's circled all the celebrities that we represent. He thought you might like looking through them."

Buffy took the magazines with a resigned look on her face. "Ok, I'll play nice and stay. But just because I'm kinda all comfy here and don't really feel like moving."

Angel nodded, hiding a smile. "Okay then. I'm going to leave you to get some more rest. I'll be back in a few hours."

Buffy pasted a smile on her face. "See you then." Angel bent over her and kissed her forehead, leaning close enough that she could smell the remnants of his soap mixed with his natural scent. She swallowed hard. The smile fell from her face as he left the room. _To go be with Nina_. She tried hard to keep her mind from visualizations that had been plaguing her since she met the woman. Lorne's magazines were some help and eventually she dozed off.

* * *

Nina lay awake in their bed. While there were certainly plenty of aspects of their life together that irritated her, she couldn't help but admit that she had grown accustomed to certain aspects of being the girlfriend of the CEO of a major law firm: the parties, the limos, the money. She hadn't even had to work since graduating; Angel took care of her while she spent her time on her art. It was paying off. Her showing had been a hit, but still, it would probably be best to not alienate him. She had a feeling that he may have been a bit put off by some of her behavior the day before. Maybe it was time to walk some of it back. She smiled as she rolled over, closing her eyes as she planned her appropriately contrite and caring speech for tomorrow.

Downstairs, Angel approached the elevator access in his office and shook his head. There was no way he could go up to bed with Nina when he was so confused. Their fight had been going on for months now, but somehow had taken a new tone with Buffy here. Nina had always stayed away from the work he had done. He had assumed it was because she lacked what she called 'super-powers,' but now he wondered. The more often they had the argument, the more cold and callous comments slipped through. She didn't actually seem to care about the people they helped, or even about the fact that he did care.

But beyond that, he had to admit to himself that it felt like he would be betraying Buffy to go curl up in bed with another woman. He shook his head tiredly, wondering how Nina had become the 'other woman' in this scenario.

He threw himself down on the couch and slept.

* * *

He stalked down the streets of Los Angeles, a slight smile on his lips. She was here, finally. It had taken her longer than he had expected to turn to the vampire, but ultimately where else would she go? Cleveland had been fun, although he almost thought she wouldn't pull through that little scuffle. It would have been a shame had she died too soon. But now, all the pieces were in place. It was almost time. He continued his stroll, people almost unconsciously moving out of his way, as he chuckled at the thought of what was to come.


	8. Chapter 8

A few hours later, Wesley and Fred accompanied Angel back down to Buffy's room. They entered just as the doctor was finishing examining her. She looked at the doctor expectantly. He hemmed and hawed to himself as he wrote some notes on her chart.

Buffy finally spoke up impatiently. "Well? Can I leave now?"

The doctor looked up. "Hmm?" He raised his eyebrows, looking startled for a moment. "Oh! Soon, Ms… errr… Summers. I just want to review your most recent blood work. Just another half hour or so." He put her chart on a hook on the wall and left.

Buffy sighed and slumped back on her pillows. She looked at her guests. "I don't like your doctor," she groused.

Angel smiled briefly. "You don't like any doctors," he replied.

"True," she admitted. She looked at Fred and Wesley pulling up chairs and said, "I guess I'm about to be treated to a 'here's what's happening' speech?"

Wesley cleared his throat. "Yes, well, I guess that's accurate."

"So, go on." Angel settled himself on the end of Buffy's bed. He noticed that Buffy seemed to be trying to look anywhere but at him. He sighed inwardly. Despite the fact that he had not been able to get any sleep due to his mind continuing to process his current dilemma, he was no closer to an answer than he was at the beginning of the night.

Wesley began. "Buffy, we believe that we have ascertained the reason behind the abrupt downturns in your health."

"Boy, you guys just never outgrow Watcher speak, do ya?" Buffy interrupted. She was in pain, she was bored, and it just never got old to needle Wesley.

Wesley was silent a moment as he strove to maintain his composure. While his shortcomings as Buffy's Watcher were not nearly as egregious as those that had affected Faith, he nevertheless found himself unwillingly drawn back to a time when he was only a fresh young recruit with no idea of how to function in the reality of the world into which he was thrust.

"We believe that the wound you sustained in your encounter with the creature pursuing you is somehow tied to your emotional state. That extreme emotions trigger a worsening of your symptoms."

Buffy looked unconvinced. "Sleep is an extreme emotional state?"

"Not sleep itself, but the dreams you are having while you are asleep. Dreams of the original attack, which I'm sure evoke pain, fear, anger…"

"Disillusionment," Buffy muttered softly under her breath.

"Do you remember something?" Wesley asked sharply. Buffy shook her head slowly as she searched her mind. There were no images, but she could feel a deep sense of disappointment, of lost hope.

"Not really," she replied. "Just a feeling."

Wesley made a mental note before continuing. "Of course, the night you first ran into us, seeing Angel again for the first time in years was obviously emotional." Fred noticed Buffy's expression shuttering as Wesley kept talking. "Then there was the dream, followed by last night's conversation with Nina."

"What do you mean?" Buffy's voice was like ice. Wesley looked up in concern.

Before he could make her more defensive, Fred jumped in. "Guys, I may have been a little off in my ideas." Both Angel and Wesley looked as if they were about to argue the point, so she continued, "Would you mind giving Buffy and me just a minute alone here?" She tried to put as much of her meaning into her eyes as she looked at Wesley as she dared.

Fred relaxed greatly as Wesley nodded, and touching Angel on the shoulder, motioned him to follow into the hallway.

Fred giggled nervously as she turned back to Buffy. "Guys," she said, shrugging. "What can we do with them?"

Buffy just looked at her. She didn't like where the conversation had been going and was even more unsure now that Fred was going all 'girl solidarity' on her. They wanted her to admit that she still had feelings for Angel, that this whole stay was an 'emotional ordeal.' She didn't want to admit that; to bring that to the surface, well, anymore than it already was. She didn't want to deal with it and what's more, she didn't want their pity.

"Look, Buffy," Fred began. "I understand if you don't want to talk about, well, _things_. I mean, you don't know me from Adam, and there's all this stuff going on, and people are coming at you from all sides. So, here's the deal. I don't know, and I don't care, what the emotions were, but I need to know if you've noticed any correlation between intense feelings and worsening of your symptoms."

Buffy couldn't help thinking how nice this girl was, how much like Willow, so earnest and guileless. She was really trying to be helpful. Buffy looked briefly into Fred's eyes and nodded. She didn't trust herself to say anything, worried that she might not be able to stop the emotional venting that lay waiting inside.

"Thank you," Fred said quietly and motioned the guys to come back in. "I was a little off in some of the specifics," Fred said as they entered. "But there does seem to be an emotional tie-in. So, I'm off to go see if there's anything in the Wolfram & Hart files about custom viruses or bacteria."

"Whoa, whoa," Gunn stood outside the door, grinning. "I got a proposal."

"And who's the lucky lady?" Buffy joked. They had spent some time talking the previous evening while dancing. She found Gunn to be easygoing, fun, and intelligent.

"Man, I wish. But no, since I'm sure all of you, along with me, are suffering a severe case of party interruptus, I move that we continue the festivities tonight at Lorne's."

"I don't know," Angel replied, glancing at Buffy. "We don't even know if Buffy will be up and around by then."

"Nothing medical stopping that." The doctor stepped in the room, again looking at his chart more than at Buffy. "I see no reason that she can't go about her normal business. Here's some more Valium. This should help to ease the lessen the impact of your emotions on your body. Take one every 4 hours, or if you feel particularly overexcited. Other than that, there's nothing more we can do for her here." And leaving the pill bottle on her nightstand, he wandered out again.

"That's settled, then," Gunn continued. "I believe, Ms. Summers, that you have a boast to live up to? Shall we settle the question tonight?"

"You're on. But believe me when I tell you, that I learned from the best of them."

"Wait, what are you two talking about?"

Buffy smiled. "Gunn here seems to think that some alcohol may loosen my tongue regarding the singing for Lorne bit. I told him that it takes a bit more than 'some.' He seems to think that he can outdrink me."

"No!" Angel said firmly. "I saw what happened the first time you got drunk, I don't want to go there again."

Buffy looked at him quizzically. "You weren't there the first time I got drunk," she said slowly.

"Yes I was," he insisted. "You and Cordelia at the frat house."

Buffy laughed briefly. "That wasn't drunk. They put a Minnie in my drink."

"Excuse me?" Wesley questioned. "A _Minnie_?"

"You know, where they put something in your drink to make you pass out."

Angel groaned. "A Mickey Finn?" he suggested.

Buffy shrugged. "Sure, whatever. But I wasn't drunk."

"Oh, so they drugged you two for…" Fred trailed off, looking shocked.

"Oh, nothing like that. They just wanted to feed us to a giant snake thing."

"Oh."

Angel felt that the entire conversation had gotten too far off the point, which was that he didn't feel like watching Buffy get drunk, and… "So, who _exactly_ was teaching you to drink the first time you got drunk?"

Buffy looked anywhere but Angel when she said softly, "Spike." Maybe it was the Valium working, but she didn't feel the same pleasure at taunting Angel with her relationship with Spike that she had the night they went patrolling. Angel got up and walked across the room to try to give himself time to collect his thoughts and not hit anything. He knew how Spike drank and a whole host of unwelcome images came crashing through his head.

Buffy shrugged, suppressing the uncomfortable feelings. "Anyway, sounds like a great plan. I didn't quite get to finish my relaxing last night."

* * *

Angel returned to his office, preparing to meet with Buffy and Wesley. Buffy had to stop by her suite and change her clothes. The ones she had worn the night before had been cut off in the emergency, and she had left the infirmary wearing a set of Wolfram & Hart scrubs. Wesley was stopping by his office to check in on his other cases.

As Angel stepped in, he saw Nina sitting in his chair. Noting that he should have expected this, he closed the door behind him.

"Angel, we need to talk."

"I know, Nina," he replied. "It's just not a good time right now. I have some people coming for a meeting in a few minutes."

She summoned up a smile as she thought, "What a surprise." Aloud she said, "I understand. How about you come up in a couple of hours and we'll have lunch?"

Angel hesitated. He had been expecting an argument, not an invitation. Changing gears, he nodded. "Of course. Lunch."

She smiled again and as she stood up and headed for the elevator. "Have a good meeting."

He stared after her wondering what the hell had just happened.

Over the next few hours, Angel, Buffy, and Wesley discussed the implications of their new knowledge regarding the emotional impact of the spells on Buffy. As Angel had expected, the conversation kept returning to Buffy's reticence to remain on the valium regimen.

"Wesley, I can't stay on the valium indefinitely. A) it dulls my reflexes; 2) I'm not staying here, so I can't keep getting it from your doctor; and lastly, even if you do get me some kind of never-ending prescription for the stuff, I can't afford to constantly be buying pills."

"That brings up a question I had, Buffy," Wesley responded. "How do you afford things? I mean, how do you buy the things you need to survive?"

Buffy shifted a bit uncomfortably in the big armchair for a moment, before straightening up and assuming a look that Angel had begun to associate with the 'hard' side of Buffy that he had been seeing in the past few days.

"However I have to," she said bluntly.

"Well, yes, but what does that mean?" Wesley prompted.

"What are you asking me Wes? Would I kill for food?"

Wesley sat up, taken aback at her brusque attitude. The reports from Gunn's contacts hovered in his mind. He reminded himself that this was not the same young girl he had met years ago. That her nature contained violent and intense passions and, at times like this, she was not at all a team player. "Yes… have you killed?" he questioned, deliberately changing the question from a hypothetical to a factual nature.

She stared at him for a minute, then forced a laugh. "Come on, Wesley! No, I haven't killed for food, or shelter, or clothing. When I think that the creature is more than a few days behind me, I try to get a job. Something that pays cash. I use that for as long as possible. But, honestly, it's not always an option. So, yeah, I steal some things – food, weapons – but most everything else, I just make do."

"Where do you sleep if you don't have money?"

She shrugged. "Anywhere that affords me decent protection. You've seen me; I don't sleep a lot, so it doesn't make sense to spend money on a motel or anything for just a couple of hours."

Wesley wondered if it was worth it to pursue her interactions with humans over the past few years, but thought perhaps now was not the best time.

Suddenly, Angel looked at the small clock on his desk and groaned. He got up, speaking as he walked toward his private elevator. "I just remembered I have an… appointment," he hedged, referring to his agreement to talk with Nina. He looked back as the doors slid open to find Buffy looking pointedly at him.

"An appointment," she snarked. "In your apartment?" Angel couldn't really think of a way to answer.

"Say hi to Nina for me," Buffy cooed as the doors closed. Angel slumped against the back wall of the elevator and closed his eyes.

Wesley continued to press his assertion that Buffy should remain on the valium treatment until they could devise a more permanent prognosis. Before he could make any headway, his assistant came in to remind him of an appointment that was waiting in his office.

"Oh, go on," Buffy answered in response to Wesley's concern at leaving her alone. "I promise I won't snoop," she continued with a facetious wink.

After Wesley left, pulling the door almost closed behind him, Buffy moved over to sit on the couch by the window and look out at the city as she thought. The valium was wonderful, as far she was concerned. It really took the edge off her tumultuous emotions. She could feel the pain as she imagined Angel and Nina one floor above her, but it no longer was the icy knife through the heart. She realized she would have to leave soon, however. Magic pills only worked for so long.

She didn't know how long she had been sitting there, when there was a slight tap on the door as Connor pushed it open. "Angel?" he called.

Buffy looked up and smiled thinly. "He's upstairs, meeting Nina for a nooner."

Connor walked over to Angel's desk where he left a pile of paperwork on the chair. He shrugged. "Oh well, it wasn't anything urgent. Although, that doesn't really seem like him," he mused.

Buffy shrugged listlessly. "I wouldn't really know."

Connor looked at the woman staring unseeingly out the window. She was so different from the one he had seen the night before, prior to the medical emergency anyway. Last night, she had been so sexy and sensual and full of life; now, she seemed to have to concentrate just to remember to breathe. He wondered how much of last night was just an act.

"Hey, you like movies?" he asked suddenly.

She looked at him quizzically. "I haven't seen many recently," she chuckled dryly. The few times she had the money to see a film or had been able to sneak into the theater undetected had mostly been used for naps.

"Well, you wanna?"

Buffy glanced at the ceiling. "I promised to play by Angel's rules while I'm here. He'll lose it if I leave the building." Connor detected a note of regret underneath her nonchalant response.

"You don't have to leave the building," he said smugly. "Lorne's got a great theatre room all set up. Plus, he's got promo copies of all the new movies coming out in the next month or so. What do you say?"

Buffy brightened just a bit, and a genuine smile crossed her face. "I say, what are we waiting for?"

* * *

It was a few hours later when Angel finally managed to track down his missing charge and missing employee. He shook his head as he viewed them in a full-blown popcorn fight while the latest Bruce Willis action flick moved across the screen. Angel sighed and called Wesley to let him know to call off the search. He shook his head; Connor may be very responsible and have abilities above and beyond normal humans, but he was still a very young person who could 'forget' to mention where he would be for hours at a time.

Angel stuck his head through the screening room door. "Guys?" he called.

The giggling stopped suddenly and they each looked up at him with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes. Then suddenly, a rain of popcorn sailed through the air pelting him from head to toe.

"Yes?" Buffy replied finally, when the latest round of laughter had subsided.

"Well, I wanted to let Connor know that he's off the clock and can remove his nose from the grindstone, but I guess that's not really necessary," Angel said, with a pointed look at Connor. Connor didn't say anything, but decided there was something on the floor requiring intense scrutiny. "And, for both of you, Gunn's post-party party should be starting in about an hour. I thought you might want some time to wash to the popcorn grease out of your hair."

Connor and Buffy started trudging toward the door, both trying to suppress the smiles and laughter that kept threatening to break through when they looked at Angel's gelled hair adorned with his own set of popcorn kernels. Buffy had no problem with the not smiling after Angel pressed another Valium pill into her hand as she passed him on her way out.

"Well, a shower does sound good, so I'm off to my room. I'll see you guys at Lorne's." With a wave she headed down the hall.

Conner started to try to slide by Angel but was stopped by a hand on his arm. He looked guiltily into Angel's stern face.

"One, you are going to go back in there and clean that mess up. You know Lorne will have a fit if you leave his room like this. And two, Connor you're on the clock! What are you doing watching movies all afternoon?"

Connor shuffled his feet. "Well, she's kinda like a client, isn't she?" Angel just looked at him. "No, really. I came by your office while you were off on your little lunchtime adventure, and she looked so down, I thought it would help if she could just chill out for a bit."

Angel saw a bit of sense in that, but, "Wait, what lunchtime adventure?"

Connor blushed a bit. "Buffy said you, umm…" he cleared his throat and mumbled quickly, "went up for a nooner."

Angel eyebrows raised in surprise. "A nooner?"

"Yeah, you know. When you go at lunchtime to get…"

Angel cut him off. "I know what a nooner is. Why did she say that?"

"Well, where were you?" Connor asked.

"Upstairs, with Nina." Connor gave him a 'duh' look and Angel stammered, "Talking, just, just talking." He recalled the vaguely surreal conversation where Nina reaffirmed her commitment to supporting Angel and his work. Angel faltered, remembering the look in Buffy's eyes when he said he had an appointment. Did she really believe he would take a break from working on her case to go have sex? "Oh," he said.


	9. Chapter 9

Lorne had set up a little pseudo-Caritas in the one of the basement levels of the building. Chairs and tables were scattered around, there was a 'stage' area with a piano and a karaoke machine, and some clear dance floor. He also kept a fully stocked bar, to which most of the gang seemed to be helping themselves enthusiastically, including Buffy, Angel noticed.

As the party wore into its second hour, Buffy removed the sweatshirt she wore and was now dancing with Gunn and Knox in just a light tank top, her cargo pants, and combat boots. Nina, sitting with Fred away from the noise, snorted. "Look at GI Barbie," she said.

Fred gave her a sideways glance. There was definite jealousy present in her voice. "Well, it is hot in here," she ventured.

"Oh, please," Nina replied. "Look at how she's dancing all over your ex and tell me you don't think it's the least bit sordid!" Nina took another gulp of her drink.

Fred had been watching them dance. While she enjoyed dancing, she had never been as into the club scene as Charles. She kind of wished she had been now, because watching him dance was a very nice pastime. Not that she would ever think of leaving Wesley, but a girl could look. Fred grinned. "Actually, I think he's having a really good time. There's nothing sordid about it. And you don't need to get mad on my behalf. Charles and I split a long time ago. He deserves to have fun, and I really can't say anything about it, even if I wanted to."

Nina looked at Fred as if she was speaking Latin and shook her head.

The dancers decided to take a little break to get more drinks and sit down for a bit. They wandered over to where everyone was clustered at this time and flopped down on whatever surface was handy. Drinks and conversation flowed easily, although Fred noticed that while Nina was enjoying her drinks, she wasn't participating much in the conversation.

Connor's phone beeped a few minutes later. As he read the text message, a grin crossed his face. He looked at the assembled group. "It's been fun guys, but I've got to go." He started gathering his things, fairly humming with excitement, waved to everyone and left.

Nina raised her glass. "Here's to young love. So… cute, yet so fleeting." Everyone except Buffy drank the toast. Then Nina looked at Angel and raised her glass to him. "And here's to the real thing." She put her glass down and kissed Angel, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Buffy got up, refilled her drink, and wandered slightly unsteadily back over to the dance floor, turned the music up and started dancing again, soon followed by Gunn and Knox. Lorne sat on the piano stool watching the dancers, and Wesley, Fred, Nina, and Angel remained in their seats talking.

Eventually, Knox gave up for the night and said his goodbyes. Buffy and Gunn refilled their drinks and sat on the stage area talking with Lorne. Angel couldn't help but notice how closely together they were sitting. He knew he had no right to be jealous, but it ate at him. The easy camaraderie they shared, the laughter, but more than that, he saw the looks exchanged between them and wondered if it wasn't a serious possibility that they would end up in bed together that night. The thought made him sick but he couldn't look away.

Nina noticed her lover's attention wandering for longer periods of time as the night drew on and was about at her wits' end. Purring in Angel's ear, as he gawked at the pair up front, she drew his attention back to their conversation. She would be thrilled if the little cheerleader would sleep with Gunn; maybe that would get Angel's mind off her once and for all.

None of those in the back had notice the stereo music stop, but they all noticed when Buffy's voice rang out, occasionally joined by Lorne's, as he played the piano to accompany her. Angel stood and met Gunn toward the middle of the room.

"Girl's got her drink on and is ready to be read, she said," he chuckled at his rhyme. Then they silenced to pay attention to the song.

 _The power of orange knickers_

 _The power of orange knickers_

 _The power of orange knickers_

 _Under my petty coat_

 _The power of listening to what_

 _You don't want me to know_

 _Can somebody tell me now_

 _Who is this terrorist?_

 _Those girls that smile kindly_

 _Then rip your life to pieces?_

Nina harrumphed quietly in her seat next to Fred.

 _Can somebody tell me now_

 _Am I alone in this?_

 _This little pill in my hand_

 _And with this secret kiss_

 _Am I alone in this?_

 _A matter of complication_

 _When you become a twist_

 _For that latest drink_

 _As they're transitioning_

 _Can somebody tell me now_

 _Who is this terrorist?_

 _This little pill in my hand_

 _That keeps the pain laughing_

 _Can somebody tell me now_

 _A way out of this?_

 _That sacred pipe of redstone_

 _Could blow me out of this kiss_

 _The power of orange knickers_

 _Under my petty coat_

 _The power of listening to what_

 _You don't want me to know_

 _Shame shame_

 _Time to leave me now_

 _Shame shame_

 _You've had your fun_

 _Shame shame_

 _For letting me think_

 _That I would be the one_

At this point, Nina stood up and stalked out of the club. She couldn't believe the gall of that girl for trying to make her out to be the bad guy, and Angel for letting it happen. Fred and Wesley glanced at each other as the door closed behind her. Then looked at Angel who didn't seem to notice it at all.

 _Can somebody tell me now_

 _Who is this terrorist?_

 _This little pill in my hand_

 _Or this secret kiss_

Buffy trailed off, looking a bit embarrassed. To cover, she turned to Lorne and said, "Well?"

Lorne stood up and led her over to the tables. "Let's have a seat, honey-bun. And maybe a Sea Breeze?" he threw over his shoulder to anyone willing to get him a drink.

While everyone was shuffling into place Fred and Wesley held a hushed discussion regarding Nina's abrupt exit. Wesley was disputing Fred's interpretation of Angel's unawareness as a sign of disinterest in the relationship. "Buffy represents a case right now. She's his job, in a way."

Fred shook her head. "You know it's not about a job. Just look at how he looks at her."

Wesley noticed Gunn finishing up mixing Lorne's drink and said, "Dear, we can discuss palace intrigue later. Right now, we should hear Lorne's reading."

Buffy took a seat at a table with Lorne, while everyone else pulled chairs up, careful to stay far enough back to allow for the illusion of privacy, but close enough that all could hear. Gunn slipped a Sea Breeze in front of Lorne and took his seat.

Buffy looked around with an amused expression, shrugged her shoulders at their blatant interest and said, "And again, Well?"

Lorne took a long sip of his drink with a pleased expression. He looked at Buffy and shook his head. "How you got so far off track, honey-buns, is a mystery even to the Powers. Not sure what we can do at this point, but I'll tell ya what I know. You should have been here years ago."

"What? What do you mean?"

"All this time wandering lost in the desert hasn't helped anything, sweet pea. You were meant to come straight here after Sunnydale."

"But… Angel and I… things are just better when we're apart."

"The curse isn't an issue, turtledove," Lorne blithely said. Everyone in the room swiveled their heads to look at him. Buffy paled and shook her head.

Angel was the first to be able to speak. "What do you mean, isn't an issue?"

"I mean, that when the red witch re-ensouled you last time at the Hyperion, there was no clause in the curse."

Buffy shook her head, dazed. "She would have told us."

"I'm not too sure she knew. When the young teacher had written the translation, she reworked the curse to eliminate the clause, but she never got a chance to tell anyone." Angel grimaced at the reminder of Jenny's death. "When your witch first went to perform the curse, she was still very young, and rather susceptible due to her physical injuries. The Rom who originally cast the curse was able to channel herself into Willow and reinsert the clause language. But when she visited us at the Hyperion, Willow was quite the mystic force herself and performed the curse as Jenny had written, therefore curse without clause."

Buffy felt as if a weight had landed on her chest, each breath a struggle. No curse. Despite the years apart from Angel, it still felt like those two words were realigning her whole foundation and she couldn't get her balance. What did this mean? Would she have come here sooner if she had known? Maybe even before going to Europe, maybe even instead of Europe? But then, it would be Angel and his friends who were killed instead of Giles and the Scoobies. No, Angel's curse wasn't the problem anymore. Hers was. Besides, he was with Nina now; it didn't do any good to think about might have beens.

She was pulled out of her reverie as Angel bellowed, "Why the hell didn't you tell me this before?" venting his emotions of the past day or so into this one tangible fact.

Lorne shrugged. "I'm talking about Buffy's destiny, not yours. The Powers reveal what they want to."

"How can it not be part of my destiny? It's _my_ soul!"

Wesley quietly ventured, "Maybe it's only part of your destiny when Buffy is involved." He looked at Angel, who seemed stunned into silence.

"Well, curse or no curse, I believe Columbus here," Buffy thumbed in the direction of Angel, "has already sailed that ship."

Angel stopped, looked puzzled. "What? Columbus?"

Buffy laughed. "You know. Explorer who _didn't_ discover America… sailed the three ships: the Santa Maria, the Pinta, and the Nina."

An uncomfortableness settled over the group. Buffy looked around. "Guys, I'm okay with it. Just pointing out the obvious. It's not like, 'Hey my soul is bound, let's go boink Buffy!'" She shrugged, and then looked at Angel. "It's not like that… right?" Something in his eyes made Buffy think that maybe it could have been like that.

Angel just looked at her as he tried to sort out his already jumbled emotions. But now was not the time for personal angst. "Lorne, did you see anything else? Anything that might be helpful to the present situation?" _Anything to get this conversation off of my sex life?_

Lorne took pity on his bewildered boss. "Well, getting down to the meat of things, more like the gristle. No images, no memories, no nothing friends."

"What do you mean?" Fred asked.

"I mean folks, whatever mojo is working on lovely Buffy's memories doesn't stop there. Even the Powers can't show me what happened; or won't, it's sometimes hard to tell where the line is."

"You mean, this spell is powerful enough to affect even the Powers that Be?" Wesley asked, intrigued.

"You got it in one," Lorne nodded.

"That's very interesting," Wesley mused. "Puts a whole different spin on things. Only a very few people would have access to that level of…" He trailed off, a strange look crossing his face. "Excuse me, I think I just found a new avenue of research. Fred, would you like to come assist?"

They hurried from the room. Gunn smiled. "I think they are actually going to research this time," he joked.

Lorne left shortly after, leaving only Buffy, Angel, and Gunn. Buffy and Gunn were talking animatedly about some celebrity Angel had never heard of, joking and laughing. Gunn made attempts to include Angel in the conversation, but he really had no interest. When it became apparent that they weren't leaving anytime soon, Angel bid them good night and reluctantly left them alone.

Retreating to his office, he continued his contemplation of the Nina vs. Buffy issue. Things definitely hadn't been going that great with Nina before Buffy's arrival and with Buffy around, well, everything was even more tense. He had been comfortable in his relationship with Nina; a date for office functions, a warm body to slide into bed with, someone to share his days with. Only he didn't share. He didn't talk to her about the moral dilemmas he often faced walking the tightrope between good and evil. Nor did she ask. He didn't discuss the intricacies of living among humans with a demon constantly inside you; her demon nature did not allow for the duality he lived with. And never had she asked.

But Buffy… even after he had left Sunnydale she had remained his closest friend and confidant, even if it was only in his mind that they spoke. Her smile, even only in photographs, brightened his day like nothing else could. And that night he had returned to Sunnydale to give her the amulet, to offer to fight by her side once more, she had been vibrant and beautiful, her kiss making his heart nearly explode in his chest. Even now, not quite broken but most assuredly bowed, just looking at her could make his world seem to stop turning. But she made it quite clear she wasn't interested in him anymore. And he had his suspicions that either she or Gunn or both had something more than talk on their minds right now. And it crushed him.

So what was he to do?

* * *

Buffy giggled as she tilted from her semi-seated position on the floor next to Gunn. She had definitely surpassed her alcohol limit, especially given that she hadn't been drinking much lately. She rested her head on his shoulder, which seemed to moderately dampen the spinning of the room. His shoulder felt nice, warm and solid. It seemed like it had been so long since she had been close to anyone, since she had taken comfort in anyone. These last few months had been all about hiding and running, leaving no trace to guide her pursuer to LA. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to just…

Gunn watched the thoughts crossing her eyes and waited. There was no doubt that he was attracted to her, she was pretty and fun, physical and witty, and had been sending out signals all night. The conversation had stopped and this was decision time. He steadied her as he turned his body to face hers. She slowly, slightly unsteadily, leaned in toward him.

Their lips met softly, and again. Gunn raised his hand to her face, brushing his fingers along her cheek. Buffy pulled back and looked at him sadly. She slowly stood up and walked over to the bar, where she got a glass of water. "Being around you guys must be giving me a conscience," she muttered, half to herself.

Gunn sighed and pushed himself to his feet. It was not fun being the guy babysitting during the maudlin phase of the evening. He walked over and took a seat next to her at the bar, grabbing a bottle of water for himself. "From what I hear, you always had quite the moral compass."

Buffy gave a half shrug. "Last few years, conscience really hasn't been my guiding force, I guess."

Gunn waited a moment, but she didn't volunteer any details. "You know, I get that. Before I was this posh lawyer you see today, I had my misguided youth smack in the LA's main vamp feeding grounds. Conscience takes a back seat to survival. But what brings your conscience up now? In case you hadn't noticed, I wasn't exactly an unwilling participant back there."

Buffy chuckled mirthlessly. Her life, especially when it came to romance, was annoyingly complex. She took a swig of water and looked at Gunn. He deserved the truth. "Because as much I as want to tell you to take me home right now, I can't do that. Not to you or to Angel. Even if Angel isn't interested in me anymore like that, he does tend to be rather possessive, or maybe obsessive, about certain people in his life."

Gunn smirked and nodded. "I know; I caught the Darla show."

Buffy mentally shrugged off the clenching of her heart that had always accompanied mentions of Darla ever since she had found out about Angel having a child with his Sire. She cleared her throat. "Then you know why we can't do this. Angel would know and it would put a strain on your friendship and… that's not right." She groaned. "Two weeks ago, I wouldn't have cared. I knew it was a mistake to come here."

Gunn decided to try to make the best of the situation seeing as Buffy was in a chatty mood. He searched for a way to fish for information about the events they had uncovered in her background search.

"So it's been pretty bad out there for you?"

Her face darkened as she thought over the last couple of years. "It's been bad on the good days," she replied.

"You had any problems from the human element?" Buffy looked at him suspiciously. "I just mean, you've been out there trying to avoid the public side of life and that usually tends to be where some of the nastier humans, as well as demons, stay as well." She was nodding slowly with a knowing look in her eye as he stammered out his explanation.

Gunn gave himself a mental smack on the head. He always had fared much better with the direct approach. "Okay," he held his hands up in mock surrender. "You got me. We were doing some research to see if we could identify any places where your pursuer might be, and I came across some human attacks that seemed to point to, well, you." He tensed as he tried to discern what her reaction was before he ended with a broken nose, or worse.

To his surprise, she didn't lash out. Instead, her eyes glistened with unshed tears. She smiled weakly. "Back in Sunnydale, I never would have hurt a human. I thought it was beyond me. I never really understood how Faith had gone down that road so easily." She shook her head. "Now I know."

"Hey, Buffy. I didn't mean that we think you did anything wrong. I read the police reports. These guys were mostly pimps, rapists, guys with rap sheets longer than my arm. I really believe you were defending yourself." She sat silently, waiting.

"But there is one incident we were concerned about." She nodded, a faraway look in her eyes. "A group of teenagers that were killed, quite obviously by vampires. But the demon underground reports that…"

"That I led them into a trap and didn't lift a finger to help right?"

Gunn nodded.

Her breath hitched a little as she began to talk. "I was working in some dive bar. It was the first time in months that I had been able to stay in one place for more than a few days. It was so nice to have some money, be able to sleep in an actual bed, you know? These kids came in because the place couldn't have cared less about legal age. Anyway, somehow they were tuned into the demon world, at least as far as knowing that it wasn't all ghost tales.

"They found out I was the Slayer and thought it was the coolest thing in the world. They started asking me if they could come out on patrol with me. Since… England, I swore that I would never, ever take anyone out with me again. I told them no, but they kept asking. Then a few days later, they came in and said they'd heard someone was looking for me, and that if I didn't show them the 'real deal' they'd make sure that everyone knew where I was."

"Man, that's… stupid kids."

Buffy nodded. "I wasn't sure if they were even telling the truth. I mean, anyone with an ounce of reason could figure that I probably had someone on my tail. Maybe they were just guessing." She took a deep breath and continued. "Anyway, I decided I couldn't take the chance. I was going to leave that night. They had left earlier, but were waiting for me when I left. I told them to go home, but they followed me." She laughed. "I wasn't even patrolling; I was just going back to my motel. Then we turned a corner and there they were; a whole cadre of vamps just hanging out." Memories filled her vision.

"They set on all of us at once. They were young; I didn't really have any trouble with mine. And then I looked around at these kids being massacred and… I didn't feel anything. All I could think was that they had threatened to kill me, or turn me over to be killed." Tears were silently falling down her cheeks as she spoke. "And I just stood there and watched them torn apart. These stupid, selfish kids that just wanted a thrill. And I couldn't care."

Buffy straightened and wiped her face with a napkin from the bar. "So," she said. "That's the story. What are you guys going to do? Am I a danger to society?"

Gunn looked at her. "Not in my book. And with that, my fair lady," he stood up. "I bid you adieu."

Buffy raised her water glass to him as he left.

* * *

Angel lay on the couch in his office in the dark, brooding. He couldn't stop thoughts of Buffy and Gunn running through his head, although he gladly accepted them as punishment for his allowing himself to get into a relationship with Nina when he never intended to follow up. The one girl he ever wanted was, even now, the one girl he could never have.

He heard footsteps in the lobby. Concentrating, he detected only one heartbeat. He saw Gunn pass the office door left slightly ajar and return a few minutes later with his briefcase on his way back to the elevator. He couldn't help the satisfied smile that crossed his face briefly. Gunn was going home alone. Then he frowned a little, as he realized he was sleeping alone himself… on a couch for the second night in a row.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song used in this chapter is 'The Power of Orange Knickers' by Tori Amos.


	10. Chapter 10

Connor remained seated at the table, while his friends moved off toward the dance floor of the club. Sasha turned and motioned for him to join her. Fully intending to get up and follow, he found himself lifting a finger to gesture that he'd join them in a minute. Confused as to his sudden lethargy, he settled back in his chair. A little alarm sounded in his brain. Something was wrong.

Trying to get his brain to focus, he was startled as someone settled into the chair next to his. Looking over, _something is wrong_ , he saw a friendly smile. The stranger gestured to his eye, which still carried a bruise from his sparring with Buffy, "Looks like you had some trouble there."

Connor shook his head, trying to recall what he had been thinking. "No," he replied slowly. "No, I was sparring with the…" Connor caught himself. "Sparring with a friend in my martial arts class." He chuckled. "I got a little cocky, and got this as a reward."

The stranger nodded with a knowing look. _Something is wrong_ floated around Connor's consciousness. He tried to take a mental picture of this person, but _something was_ … The stranger spoke again. "I found this wallet on the floor over there; is it yours?"

… _wrong_. _What?_ Connor pulled his wallet from his back pocket and shook his head, smiling. "Nope, mine's right here," he said, putting it down between the glasses on the table.

The stranger shrugged. "Just thought I'd check. It's no fun losing things."

The conversation continued. At least, the stranger kept talking, but Connor wasn't sure he was responding with any coherence. He kept trying to make note of the appearance, but found it difficult to focus on any one aspect of the face.

Drifting off into a fog, Connor started when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Jennifer laughingly leaned down and kissed him lightly. "You're a million miles away." She teasingly danced around his chair. "Come on and dance!"

Connor looked around to find he was alone at the table. He thought confusedly, Was I just talking to someone? Shaking off the confusion, he got up to follow Jennifer to the dance floor, where the rest of his friends were dancing.

"Wait," she said suddenly, leaning across him. She handed him his wallet, which had been sitting on the table. "Don't forget this!"

Buffy sat in the now abandoned lounge, thinking. She had come here to rest and regroup, not to get blindsided with girlfriends, old memories, and startling revelations. Exhaustion and anxiety had her muscles tense and her brain spinning. She turned off the lights behind her as she decided to head to the gym and try to work off some of the excess energy.

Angel lay restless on the couch, unable to find sleep. When he heard his private elevator doors open, he debated trying to pretend he was asleep. He knew Nina would be coming to ask why he hadn't come to bed, and he didn't have an answer for her. All he knew was that it felt wrong.

Nina stepped out of the elevator, not surprised to see Angel on the couch. He hadn't come after her earlier and now wasn't coming to bed. "Angel," she began harshly. Taking a deep breath to get herself under control, she continued, though he hadn't acknowledged her presence. "Baby, why aren't you coming up?"

Angel sighed, unsure of what to say.

Nina frowned at his lack of response. "She's not in the infirmary tonight, no one's attacking her in your building. Last I saw, she seemed to be having a pretty good time, actually. I think you can afford to take a couple of hours for yourself… for us," she tried to soften her voice for the final bit of that sentence. He had always been a sucker for the romantic stuff.

"I _am_ taking some time for myself, Nina." He pulled himself upright and looked at her finally. Suddenly realizing he didn't even know when she had left the party earlier, he felt slightly ashamed. "I'm sorry, I know this has to be hard for you. It's just that with everything that's happened…" he trailed off.

Nina leaned against Angel's desk. "You still have feelings for her?" she asked.

Trying to remember if Cordelia had ever coached him on how women like that question answered got him nowhere. He shrugged tiredly. "I didn't think so."

Nina let out a little laugh. "So, after three years together, you suddenly decide it was all what? A mistake, a way to fill time?"

Angel shook his head. "No, Nina. None of that," he protested, although deep in his heart he was unsure. But Buffy had made no secret of the fact that she was leaving as soon as she could, had wasted no time in telling the world that she was just fine with Angel's relationship with Nina. Did he really want to throw away a good thing for the memory of a great one?

He stood and crossed the room. Looking at Nina, he said, "I'm with you now. I just need some time to sort out things in my head." He moved to take her in his arms, but she moved away.

"Fine," Nina bit out. "Take all the time you want. You know where I'll be when she leaves." _And she'd better leave_ , she thought as the elevator doors closed behind her.

Angel paced his office a few times before realizing he wasn't going to get to sleep any time soon. He headed out to try to exhaust himself at the gym.

He almost turned back around when he saw Buffy just ahead of him at the entrance. Unfortunately, she saw him before he could duck away. Both of them seemed tense and uncomfortable.

"Little late night workout?" Angel asked, tersely. Images of her and Gunn were still floating in his head.

Buffy offered a noncommittal shrug as she scanned her security badge and the doors opened. "Apparently." She didn't think that volunteering that she was coming in to work off sexual tension would engender a very amiable conversation. She found her eyes lingering on Angel as the memory of Lorne's revelation returned to her. Angel shifted uncomfortably under Buffy's gaze. She looked both vulnerable and predatory. All of a sudden, she shook herself slightly and said, "What are _you_ doing here in the middle of the night? Won't Nina miss you?"

Angel bristled. Why did she have to keep turning the damn conversation back to Nina? Before he could say anything though, they were interrupted by the sound of footsteps. Both turned to face the potential threat, assuming fighting stances, which relaxed as Wesley came around the corner.

"Ah, good, I was hoping to find you both. I have some information that I thought you should know immediately."

Buffy looked puzzled. "So you came to the gym in the middle of the night? I mean," she looked at the three of them. "Is this where you all hang out? It's getting to be a regular party here."

Wesley shook his head briefly. "No, I checked Angel's office and didn't find him there and then saw that you scanned your card here, so I thought I'd take the chance that both of you were together."

"What's the news, Wesley?" Angel asked.

"I believe I have identified the source of the spell, or more likely spells." He hesitated. Both Buffy and Angel looked at him expectantly. He cleared his throat. "It was us."

"What?" Both of them looked floored.

"Well, not us, per se," Wesley clarified, pointing between himself and Angel. "But rather, Wolfram & Hart. I found several spells in our library tonight, and until recently, the relics required to cast them were also listed in the Wolfram & Hart inventory. Now they are not."

Angel and Buffy both became very still. Angel's face was grave as he considered the possibilities. "Does this mean it was someone here?" he asked.

Wesley shook his head. "No, it was general Wolfram & Hart material, accessible from any of our offices worldwide, possibly beyond."

"I'm leaving in the morning," injected Buffy.

"What?" Angel replied, aghast. "Buffy, you can't,"

She cut him off. "Not only am I up against a killer with no conscience, but he's supplied by your buddies," she looked almost accusingly at Angel.

Angel's eyes were imploring as he said, "Please stay. Now that we know where the spell originated, we can find out who accessed it, maybe even how to reverse it. Right, Wesley?" he asked almost desperately.

"Absolutely," he replied. "Fred is still in the library looking into it. I thought about pulling in the rest of my staff, but at this point, I'm not sure who to trust. But we will find the information we need," he assured Buffy.

Buffy sank against the wall, trying desperately to control the waves of grief and fear that she felt welling deep inside as a new thought occurred to her. Breathing deep and focusing on an inane picture hanging on the wall across from her, she steeled herself and said, "I have to go. He knows I'm here." She laughed almost frantically. "He's going to come here and he's going to kill you."

"Buffy, you can't be sure he knows you're here."

She sighed. "We haven't gone out of our way to hide it. I went to your freaking party right in front of everyone! And people talk, Angel. Harmony alone is good to tell at least 50 people. I mean, the Slayer staying at Wolfram & Hart? Come on, that must have set the grapevine on fire." Angel couldn't think of an answer to that.

She pushed off the wall and stood in front of Angel looking up at him. "Maybe," she mused, still bordering on a type of muted frantic hysteria. "Maybe if we stage some type of argument, some very public exit. Maybe, maybe we can convince him that I don't care about you anymore, that there's nothing for him here. He'll follow me, and..." Buffy faltered.

Angel secretly thought that it wouldn't be that difficult to persuade her pursuer that she didn't care anymore if he had been privy to their interactions of the past few days, but shook his head. "You know that won't work, Buffy. We're safer if we all stick together."

She smiled sadly. "No, Angel. Willow and Giles, Dawn, Xander," her eyes shone with tears, "they weren't safe and I was right there. The best thing I can do for you is to get gone. I'll say goodbye in the morning before I leave." She turned on her heel and moved away before Angel could protest, and before she could change her mind.

Angel watched her leave. Never taking his eyes off her retreating form, he said, "Wesley, find an answer. Fast."

Buffy returned to her suite, slowly, tiredly. It would be so difficult to leave this, the comfort, the companionship, but it was her only option. And it wouldn't be for long. She wouldn't hide this time. She would lead this bastard away, whoever, whatever, it was. A few days, a few hundred miles. Then she would stand and fight. She had no illusions that she would win, but she wasn't going to go down hiding and scared. She would go down like a Slayer.

She started repacking the few possessions she had unpacked from her knapsack, but looked longingly at the bed. It had been so long since she'd slept in a bed, and it didn't look like she would get another chance. Grudgingly, she gave in to her longing and laid down on the soft mattress. A smile flitted across her face for just a moment before she fell asleep.

* * *

Some time later, he stood over her. She looked better than she had in Cleveland, obviously had been getting more food and more sleep. He shook his head; she should know better. Looking around the room, he saw her half-packed bag. She was leaving sooner than he had anticipated; he would have to move up his plans. Leaving her his gift, he slipped out the door and down the hall.


	11. Chapter 11

After an hour of getting in the way of Wesley and Fred's research, Angel returned to his office to spend a few more sleepless hours on the couch. As he noticed the sky brightening outside the window, he gave up on sleep and decided to go check on Buffy, on the better-than-average chance that she had decided to sneak out on him early.

His disquiet intensified as he approached Buffy's suite, where the door was standing slightly ajar. Mentally kicking himself for believing that she would wait until morning, he pushed the door open, stopping when he saw her sitting in the middle of the bed. She was staring at a purple sweater in her lap, a handwritten journal laying open next to her. As Angel moved into the room, she looked up at him wearily. He was struck by the despair in her eyes. He sat gently beside her.

As he looked around he saw the half-packed bag, the rumpled bed (he didn't think she had slept in the bed once since she'd been here), and then he saw the small bottle that held her valium laying on its side on the night table next to a partially filled glass of water.

"Buffy," he said, tension evident in his voice. _What had she done?_ he wondered.

She followed his glance in a daze. It took a minute for her mind to clear enough that she understood what he was trying not to ask. She said softly, "I only took a few. I..." She found she couldn't say the words. Instead, she handed him the journal.

Seeing no guile on her face, he decided to give her the benefit of the doubt for a couple of minutes to see if she could clarify what was happening. He took the journal, holding her eyes for a couple of seconds until the pain in them was overwhelming him. Looking down at the journal, he expected to see her handwriting, maybe an explanation of what was going on. It wasn't Buffy's, yet it was still familiar. He searched his memory and suddenly remembered what Xander had jokingly called the Dawn-meister Chronicles. He read a couple of pages, confirming that this was indeed one of Dawn's journals.

A chill settled on him, the type of sixth sense that had helped so much over the years. He remembered his meeting with Steven, the report that there were no personal belongings in Buffy's possession. Where did this come from? He looked at her stroking the sweater in her lap and laid his hand atop hers, stilling it. She looked back up at him.

Swallowing her grief, she said to him, "It was Dawn's. She was wearing it when she," her voice broke and she rephrased, "the last time I saw her. I never realized that we never got it back after..." She gripped the sweater tightly in her fist, breathing deeply, trying to shore up her tenuous control over her emotions.

"How? Buffy where did they come from?" he asked, not sure he wanted to hear the answer.

She half-shrugged. "They were here when I woke up." She swallowed, disgust and anger in her voice as she continued, " _He_ was here, while I was _sleeping_."

"Okay, come with me." Angel dialed his cell phone as he got up and waited for Buffy. When Harmony answered, he instructed her, "Close down the building. No one in or out."

"Okay, boss. But what about Connor?"

Angel stopped, puzzled. "What about Connor?"

"He's downstairs waiting for security to clear him through. Does he count as in or out?"

Angel started leading Buffy out of the suite toward the elevators. "Why does he need to be cleared?"

"Well, it turns out that _he_ lost his card this time," Harmony nearly crowed, anxious to emphasize that she wasn't the only one who lost them.

"Shit. Tell Security to let him through and then lock it down. And tell them to review the security footage for the last twelve hours. We're looking for someone in the guest area that shouldn't have been there. I'll be right there."

* * *

Fred had been on her way to Wesley's office to retrieve some notes when the building shifted to lockdown. Angel and Buffy arrived on one elevator, Buffy still looking shell-shocked, while Connor showed up a minute later on the other elevator. Gunn also came out of his office, looking worried.

"What's going on, Angel?" was the question from everyone.

"He's here, or he's been here. In the building, in Buffy's suite." Everyone shifted their focus to Buffy.

"I'm okay. He just kind of… left me something." She flashed back to the drawings Angelus would leave her, but quickly tried to focus on something else.

Connor had been shifting his weight, worried about what he had to tell Angel, feeling especially guilty in light of what had happened.

"Angel, something happened when I was at the club last night. I think someone lifted my security pass."

Angel nodded, having already pieced that much together. "Did you see who it was?"

Connor laughed uncomfortably. "Yeah. I'm pretty sure I had a conversation with him. But it's all fuzzy, you know?"

Buffy nodded slowly, but Angel shook his head. "What do you mean, 'fuzzy?'"

"I mean, I know that I was looking right at him, but I can't see him." Frustration tinged Connor's voice. "I can't remember what we talked about, how long we talked, just this vague feeling that I talked to someone. And then when I got here this morning, my card was missing. I don't know why, but I'm sure there's a connection."

Harmony tottered over to give Angel more bad news. "Boss, Security says there's no one on the recordings that shouldn't be."

Angel nodded, "Then have them give me all activity on Connor's card in the last twelve hours."

"Okey dokey!"

"Fred, how close are we to finding the counterspells?"

"Well, Angel, I think we've got a good line on it. There's still some question as to whether we've identified all the spells in play, but we should have something soon."

Angel kept looking around, not able to relax. Buffy was in pretty much the same shape. Senses on hyper-alert, not knowing who was near or who was watching.

Harmony was typing away at her desk, faltering over the keys. Angel stalked over, impatient for answers.

"Well," he asked, tapping his fingers on the counter above her desk.

Harmony, who had been seemingly been staring up into space, jumped. "What, boss?"

"Connor's security card? Where was it used recently?"

"Oh, yeah." She handed Angel a printout. Her gaze slowly moved back up to stare toward the catwalk. She was fighting something in her brain and couldn't stop staring. He looked so familiar.

Frustrated, but not surprised, at Harmony's lack of focus, he grabbed the page and brought it over to the rest of the group. He and Connor looked at it. Connor pointed to a notation at about 10:30 PM the previous night. "See, that's when I left." His finger ran down a number of notations starting around 2AM, "But that wasn't me. I was on my way back to my dorm by then." The last notation was an entry to the guest suite Buffy was occupying.

"Fred, you'd better go tell Wesley we're going to need something quick. I don't see any indication that he's left the building." Fred nodded and began moving toward the hall that would lead her to the library.

Harmony was standing at her desk, tilting her head this way and that. "Harmony, what the hell are you doing?" Angel roared, his feelings of impotence fueling his rage.

"Don't you all see that?"

Everyone looked around and then looked at each other. Gunn shrugged and said, "What are we looking at Harmony?"

She pointed to the top of the staircase. "That... Him... Whatever." All she could see was a face obscured by mist. "He's coming down the stairs now."

They instantly went on alert. Gunn, Connor, Angel, and Buffy standing in the center of the lobby, Fred hovering near Wesley's office, everyone staring as hard as they could at the stairs. Slowly, they became aware of a distortion. The sensation was familiar to both Connor and Buffy.

Suppressing her desire to run, Buffy held her ground. The distortion was moving down the stairs and toward their little group. She stared; she began to see the face underneath the mist. She opened her mouth, but couldn't find the name. It stopped moving.

Now she walked toward it, slowly, searching her memories for the name. She circled him, half-seeing, half-feeling as images slowly filled her brain. She remembered her meditation sessions with Giles, how he always chided her for trying to force the end to come about. _Relax_ , he would tell her. _Give in and let go._ She stopped and closed her eyes.

The others watched. Once the intruder had stopped moving, he had become virtually invisible. Angel could only barely perceive his general presence. He waited, alert and on edge, for the intruder to make his move. The entire lobby seemed to be holding its breath.

Buffy inhaled deeply, allowed the memories to wash over her, sunlight and picnics, laughter, danger, and dark. She opened her eyes, looked at his face, and said, "Riley."


	12. Chapter 12

"Hi honey, I'm home."

As soon as Buffy had managed to force his name past her lips, it was as if the masking spell had been broken. Everyone was able to see him. Gunn, Connor, and Angel immediately started toward him, but were thrown back as they neared him. Then he moved, more quickly than the eye could see. Next thing they knew he had Buffy pinned against the far wall, his hand across her throat.

Shaking his head, Riley said, "I don't think we'll be having any of that just now. I'll have you know, Angel, I could snap her neck in a heartbeat. Or," he chuckled, "maybe you don't understand that unit of measurement."

Angel held his hands out, palms up, in a pacifying gesture, his eyes fixed on Buffy. "We're listening."

"Riley," Buffy spoke quietly, as the pressure on her throat made every breath painful. Even so, the sadness and disappointment were evident in her voice. "Why are you doing this?"

"Oh Buffy, how can you ask that? Ever since I met you, my life has been falling apart." He looked at Buffy's eyes, which were confused. "You didn't see it? I'm not surprised, you've always been preoccupied with everyone else, overlooking those right in front of you. See, I met you and I lost my career, my purpose, my friends.

"And I stuck by you," his hand tightened on her throat as his voice raised. "I stuck by you and I tried to rebuild my life. I backed you up and I helped with Dawn and I gave you everything I had. But that wasn't enough for you." His eyes flicked involuntarily to Angel. "And again, I lost."

Angel was only half paying attention to Riley's rant. He was trying desperately to think of any way they could get at him, or more importantly get Buffy away from him. Whatever that forcefield was that had prevented them from getting near him was powerful. His fists balled in frustration.

Riley continued. "So I left. I left you, I left Sunnydale, and I started over _again_. And I found happiness. Someone who loved me, a purpose again." Buffy looked into Riley's eyes. They were empty and lifeless. "And again, you took it away."

"But, how? You and Sam, you were fine, happy when you you came to Sunnydale," she forced through her fiery throat.

"Yes, yes. But you got in trouble again didn't you? Several years ago, we saw a hotspot blossoming in Sunnydale. The humans were leaving in droves. And Sam," Buffy saw the first glimmer of emotion in Riley's eyes, "Sam insisted we go help. So I took my team, and we spread out through the city. I was monitoring the situation from just outside the city limits. I saw you leaving, running as though the fires of hell were behind you." Buffy's eyes widened as she guessed what was coming next.

"You got out. They didn't." His hand tightened even further. Buffy wondered how much more of this she could withstand; already dark spots were dancing before her eyes.

"Riley, I didn't know. How could I have known?" she whispered.

"You took everything from me again," he continued as though he hadn't heard her. "My unit, my wife, my baby. I had nothing."

Angel tried to interject as Buffy started to sag. "Riley, I know what it's like to lose a child."

Riley flung out his free hand and Angel was pushed back again, this time held in place by the invisible forcefield.

"I'm not ready for you, yet." Turning back to Buffy, he said, "So there I was, wandering, alone, and I met some friends. These friends told me that you had set up a new shop, in London. That you were living the life you always wanted. With all those little Slayers, you didn't have all that responsibility, you could be a friend, a sister. And I wanted to make you pay. And that meshed nicely with my new friends' interests as well." He smiled darkly. "Hence the man you see before you today."

Buffy struggled to hold her eyes open. "Riley, I'm sorry that your life has been so disappointing. And I am so sorry about Sam. But you made your choices. You both did. This is a dangerous line of work. We all know the risks. So, sorry, I'm not footing the bill for this one."

"And yet," Riley answered. "Here we are."

"So this has all been leading up to killing me?" she questioned.

"Well, the beginning was about making you hurt the way I hurt. This," he gestured around him, "this is for the ultimate source of the pain. Angel, the constant other in our relationship. Now it's his turn to hurt, to lose. He gets to stand here and watch as I kill you."

* * *

When Riley had been unveiled, Fred stood trembling at the door to Wesley's office. She had seen the speed with which this 'Riley' moved, seen the forcefield that protected him. Slowly and quietly, she edged toward the hallway and ran to the library.

Wesley was reading when he heard her come in. "Ah, Fred, good. What took so long?" He looked up and saw her frantic face. He stood and rushed toward her, holding her tightly. She was shaking. "Fred, what's happened?"

Quickly, she stammered out the relevant details of what she had seen. "Wesley, are we ready to break the spells?"

Wesley looked concerned. "I think I have identified all the spells he has used. But to counter them, we have to cast in a very specific order." He pulled a sheet of paper from his desk and handed it to Fred. "We obviously don't have a lot of time, let me know what you think about what I've worked out."

They worked feverishly for minutes which felt like hours, all the while wondering what was happening to their friends. Finally, Fred nodded at Wesley. "I think this is the best we're going to get under the circumstances."

Agreeing, he said, "I'll need your help to cast. Let's go. I want to be as close as possible, just in case something goes wrong."

They arrived as quietly as possible just in time to see Riley repel Angel. Immediately they began the quiet chants that they had devised.

Angel noticed the effects before Riley, the forcefield disappearing so suddenly he almost lost his balance. Catching himself in order to avoid tipping Riley off, he stayed in place, waiting for the right moment to make his move. He tried to alert the others with his eyes that something was sapping Riley's powers, but they seemed distracted by the insane ranting. As Riley announced his plan to kill Buffy, as she sagged against the wall barely breathing, held up only by Riley's hand against her throat, Angel knew the time was now or never.

* * *

It was as Riley looked back to gloat at Angel that he first became aware something was wrong. He didn't have long to ponder what was happening. Just as he saw Angel moving toward him, quickly followed by the other two, he felt Buffy move. Grabbing onto his arm, she lifted her legs and planted her feet squarely in his solar plexus, pushing him straight at the enraged vampire.

From then on, everything happened quickly. Riley put up a fight, but against Connor, Gunn, and Angel, stood little chance. However, he seemed quite willing to make it a fight to the death, and Angel was happy to oblige. Buffy, who had expended all her remaining energy with that kick, was crouched on the floor against the wall, trying to catch her breath. She saw Riley go down to the ground, Angel continuing with the assault. Trying to speak through her bruised trachea was did not provide enough volume to make her heard above the commotion. Connor saw her trying to communicate and went over to her.

"Don't kill him," she gasped. "Stop Angel."

Connor looked hard at her. "Are you sure?" She nodded gingerly.

He looked at Angel and Riley. It didn't look like he had a lot of time to stop the fight. "Gunn, help me with him!" Together they dove in, each grabbing one of Angel's arm, shouting his name.

"What the..." Angel sputtered as he struggled against them. Riley moaned on the floor. "Let me finish it!"

"No, Angel," Connor retorted. "Look at Buffy."

She was shaking her head, her eyes pleading with Angel. "Damn it." Looking regretfully at the battered man, he walked over to crouch next to Buffy. He instructed the others, "Have someone restrain him."

Buffy smiled weakly, holding a hand out for Angel to help her up. He did and pulled her into his arms. She thought about pulling away, but decided it was too much trouble. She leaned into him as he tightened his arms around and rested his chin on top of her head.

"You were incredible," Angel's voice was trembling as he realized how close he had come to losing her for good.

"Which part, the faking being passed out or the kick?" Buffy teased.

"But, Buffy, why did you stop me? I mean, being slightly more rational now already, I'm kind of glad I didn't kill him, but, you, well you have plenty of reason to want him dead."

Buffy pulled back a bit and looked up at Angel, sorrow written all over her face. "I have lots of reasons to _not_ want him dead too." She walked aimlessly away. "I don't want any more blood on my hands, or on yours. Something happened to him, he went insane. But what if we can help him?"

"Help him?" Angel repeated.

"You have a lot of resources here. Isn't there someone who could work with him, somewhere you could keep him secure, but where he could maybe be happy?"

Angel hesitated. "Buffy, you know that Riley did some horrible things. How do you think he would react if he were to get better, to be like he was? It's not easy to deal with those types of actions."

"I know. But I owe him that. Besides, we can't kill him now. It would be like executing him."

Angel noticed that she was swaying on her feet and that the bruises were beginning to appear on her throat. He gently took her arm and said, "We can discuss this later. Right now, we're taking you to the infirmary." He looked over at Wesley, "Do you have the information the doctors need?"

Wesley nodded. "We should be able to lift the enchantments and allow the doctors to address her wounds medically, yes."

"Then that's what we're doing. Gunn, have Riley taken to a secure cell for the time being. We'll get him medical care there."

Angel was so focused on Buffy and there was so much commotion, that he didn't notice Nina standing in his doorway for the last few minutes. She watched as he walked Buffy slowly to the elevators, his arm gently resting across her back, she leaning her head against him as the waited for the doors to open.

* * *

Buffy had to admit that she started feeling better as soon as the enchantments had been lifted. She endured the doctor's poking and prodding, got her stitches and was sitting up in the bed, smiling when Angel reentered the room, looking serious.

Her smile faded. "What?"

Angel pulled a chair up and sat down, sighing heavily. "Buffy, something happened. The security guards were taking Riley to a containment cell. He apparently tried to make a break for it. They had no choice."

Buffy felt a coldness spread inside her as she realized what Angel meant. "He's dead?" she asked for confirmation.

"Yes," Angel replied. "I'm sorry."

Buffy took a deep breath. "You were probably right anyway. Maybe it's better this way. At least I know I tried." Feeling tears building, she said to Angel, "I think I'd like to go back to my room now."

"Of course. Do you want some company or..." Angel trailed off.

"No, I think I'd like to be alone. A lot to process, you know?" Angel nodded. She added, "The doctors want me to hang around for a couple of days, but then I'll be out of your hair."

She hopped off the table and gave Angel a quick hug, trying not to think about how good he felt, and scurried out of the room before he could insist on accompanying her.

Angel sat in the now empty room. He hadn't thought she would be in such a hurry to leave, but he should have suspected it. She had shown no interest in picking up their relationship, even showed interest in other guys. It was selfish of him to assume that she would still be harboring feelings for him. Plus there was Nina. Buffy had made it clear several times over the last few days that she thought he belonged with Nina. And maybe he did. Why then did he want to persuade Buffy that she belonged with him?


	13. Chapter 13

Buffy spent the next two days trying to avoid Angel. With the imminent threat removed, she now had too much time to ponder the revelations of the past few days: the curse (or lack thereof), Nina, those looks she thought she sometimes caught Angel giving her. She had tried so hard to convince herself that she was over him, especially after the news of Nina had reached them in London. But being near him, she couldn't deny that she was still in love with him.

But he had a good thing here and it would be the mature thing just to leave him be. The idea of returning to London did not appeal to her, but Wesley had told her the Slayer Cooperative would be willing to issue her a monthly stipend so that she could go pretty much wherever she wanted. She secretly suspected that this stipend was funded, in whole or in part, by Wolfram & Hart, but was willing to take what she could get. Both London and Los Angeles were too full of heartbreaking memories, maybe it was time to start entirely new.

Sleep still eluded her. Nightmares plagued her, waking her gasping or crying. Nightmares about Riley and the attack in Cleveland, about the events that had driven her from London. Worst of all were the dreams in which she managed to save Giles or Willow or the others and woke only to have the cold reality come crashing down as the comforting haze of sleep left her.

* * *

Angel spent the those same two days torn between giving Buffy her space and wanting to force a conversation. In the end, he had to allow her to go her own way, the trauma of what she had been through trumped any confusion or desire he might feel. He spent his days trying to catch up with the backlog of work that he had ignored in favor of Buffy's case. His evenings were spent in an icy stalemate with Nina. He had given up the office couch in favor of the guest bed in his suite. They had not discussed their situation.

Finally, on the third day, Buffy appeared in his office in the afternoon. He looked up and smiled. She looked so much healthier than when she had first shown up, but still tired and careworn.

She asked, "You got a minute?"

Angel closed the file on his desk and leaned back in his chair. "I've got as long as you need."

She smiled, wishing this was true. She sat in one of the chairs facing his desk. "I just saw the doctors. They cleared me for normal activity." She chuckled, the word normal never really having applied to her.

Angel stiffened. He knew what was coming next.

"So, I think I'll probably pack my stuff up tonight and get out of here in the morning," she continued without looking at him.

Angel nodded slowly. "Where are you going?"

She shrugged. "Just," she hesitated. "Not here. Angel, we agreed a long time ago that it wasn't a good idea for us both to be in the same town. Don't want to get in your way." She rushed through hoping to get it out without revealing how much it broke her heart to say.

Angel caught the wistfulness in her voice however. "Buffy, I don't think that really pertains anymore. We're both different people now than we were then. I," now it was his turn to hesitate. "I actually was going to suggest that maybe you'd like to stay here for a while. Just until you start to feel more like yourself."

Buffy bristled. "What do you mean?"

"You obviously aren't sleeping." At her outraged look, he shook his head. "I'm not spying on you, there aren't any hidden cameras, I just know you. You don't look well-rested. And after what you've been through, I'm not surprised."

"I'm the Slayer. It comes with the job." Buffy had lost count of how many times she had said that throughout her life.

Angel leaned forward, "Buffy, you've been through more than anyone ever should have to go through, and that was before London. Then you didn't even have time to process the deaths of Dawn, Xander, Giles, and Willow before you were on the run." He could see each name he spoke hitting her like a dagger through her heart, but forced himself on. "Then you spent three years being hunted." He shook his head. "You need a safe place to deal with this. To come to peace. And I can offer you that."

Buffy was torn. A large part of her wanted to reject his offer out of hand and get the hell out of there. Just sitting this close to him, hearing the kindness and concern in his voice, but knowing he wasn't hers, was painful on an entirely different scale than she had been dealing with for the last three years. However, he was actually making some sense. The nightmares were terrible, she found herself breaking down into tears throughout the day for no discernible reason, and it would be a relief to just concentrate on herself for a while and hand over the other responsibilities to someone else.

Angel took Buffy's hesitation as a positive sign, so he continued. "We have some excellent therapists here, people who are aware of the unique circumstances we face. You could talk to them completely openly without any worry about them thinking you were crazy or making it up." Buffy made a face. Therapy was not her first choice.

"Or you could just talk to us. You know my background, and everyone else here has a story too. We've all been through things and had to learn to deal with them. We can help you, listen to you, whatever you need." Angel trailed off, thinking that this sounded a lot less compelling when spoken aloud than he had hoped.

Buffy nodded. "I'll think about it, Angel."

* * *

Buffy thought about it most of the night. She packed and unpacked her bag, then packed it again. Deep down, she could admit that she really wanted to stay, except that to stay would mean seeing Angel with Nina daily. Packing usually followed that thought. He had left Sunnydale because they weren't able to stay away from each other. Granted, the world was not in danger of ending anymore should something happen between them, but it would still be wrong.

The early morning light found her sitting and reading Dawn's diary, smiling through tears as she remembered the people and events recounted. She missed them all so much. If she stayed here, she could maybe begin to develop friendships again and work with a team. _Unpack._ A team with Nina. _Pack_. Laughter and acceptance. _Unpack_. Catty jibes and PDAs. _Pack._

As the clock approached business hours, Buffy shoved the diary into her backpack and slung it over her shoulder. She took the elevator to Angel's floor and got out to see everyone 'casually' hanging around in the lobby. She smiled as she walked over to them.

Angel's face fell when he saw her backpack. He had really hoped that he had gotten through to her. Nina kept her smile plastered across her face even as she noticed Angel's reaction. No point in picking a fight now, the girl was leaving.

Wesley too was disappointed, and concerned, that Buffy was choosing to leave. Her attitude seemed to have improved markedly in the past few days, but he worried what would happen if she returned to a life of isolation.

Buffy hugged each of them in turn, murmuring goodbyes. Shaking hands with Nina, she wished her the best with her art and then moved to face Angel.

She looked into his eyes, those warm brown eyes that she had once thought she would spend a lifetime gazing into, and smiled softly. "Thanks for the offer. I just," she took a deep breath as she was overwhelmed by a wave of sadness at the thought of being away from him again. "I just think it's best if I go."

Angel shook his head slightly, but replied, "If you've made up your mind…"

Buffy stretched up and wrapped her arms around his neck. He held her close for as long as he thought he could reasonably explain as a goodbye to an old friend. Softly inhaling her scent, he stored the memory away, unsure that he would ever get the chance again.

Pulling apart, Buffy mentally shook herself, smiled and waved at everyone and started walking to the elevators, only to hear Harmony's exasperated voice echo across the lobby, "Buffy, I need your security pass!"

Sighing, just wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible, Buffy detoured over to Harmony's desk, pulling her pass out of her pocket. Standing in front of the desk, holding the pass, she looked back at everyone standing there. Angel, always warm and welcoming; Gunn looking suave and supportive; Fred, with her earnest nervousness; Connor, young and eager to prove himself; and Wesley (Willow was right) looking quite Marlboro Man-ish. Her eyes lingered on each of them.

"Buffy," Harmony interrupted her contemplation, reaching out to grab the pass.

"No, Harm," Buffy replied, pulling the pass back.

"What, 'no?'" Harmony stamped her foot. "I told you Security is so rigid about things like that! You can't leave with it!"

Buffy glanced at Harmony and then looked back to Angel, who was smiling back at her.

"I'm staying."

 **~FIN~**


End file.
